The Cannons to Heaven Cycle
by LordCelebi
Summary: After the theft of a powerful ancient relic, the Orre Republic launches a missile at Kanto that turns people into Pokemon hybrids. Amidst the chaos, a mercenary troupe steals an aircraft carrier to raid the high seas. With humanity becoming monsters, political tensions, and a rogue army hellbent on world domination, a full-scale war is on the brink. Try it; this fic doesn't suck!
1. Tides of Darkness: Prologue

**A/N: For reference: In this fic, the name of the Pokemon World is Maridia. Maridia is one of several planets in the Corona Star System.  
**

**Cannons to Heaven**  
**Book 1: Tides of Darkness**

_Give me the cups.  
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,  
The trumpet to the cannoneer without,  
The cannons to heaven, the heavens to earth,  
"Now the king dunks to Hamlet." Come, begin.—  
And you, the judges, bear a wary eye._  
-William Shakespeare (_The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark; Act _)

**Prologue**

The Pokemon were dying.

The very fauna of the Earth, Mew's gift to Maridia, were on the brink of becoming no more. Initially, it had been said to only be a "population fluctuation" by the spin doctors that worked for the world governments. The scientific community, on the other hand, pointed to charts and historical data, loudly making the case that something was very, very, very wrong with the planet. No one was able to understand why it was that wild Pokemon fertility rates were dropping. Armchair scientists published articles claiming that it was "global warming," or "radiation," or "cell phone signals." A cult had even sprung up in various pockets of the world professing that this was the divine retribution of the PokeGod "Ketsuban."

Pahaa Kirvestä's embittered explanation was the war several years prior, primarily between the Hoenn Council and the Sevii Islands Coalition. It was in that war that the nation of Orre had been sacked by Hoenn and stifled with costly war reparations. He swore, both publically and privately, that he would have his revenge.

Whatever explanation people found for themselves didn't change the fact that the planet would soon only be populated by only humans and animals. The "missing link," the bridge between the two worlds would soon be no more. The noticeable decline in Pokemon had a costly effect on technology. The bioenergy that Pokemon gave off had previously been utilized to operate turbines, creating almost limitless energy for the planet. With Pokemon now more costly than ever, the markets decided that pollutant-causing fossil fuels were the answer to the problem.

"President Kirvestä, my name is Professor Yantil Massadar. I am the Chief Scientific Officer of DyneTech Enterprises," the lab coat-clad academic introduced himself to the Orre President. Massadar extended his hand for a handshake. Kirvestä stared at it for a second, shrugged, and then returned the gesture. Massadar sat down in front of Kirvestä's desk and crossed his legs, right over left.

"And what business does Orre's prodigal son have with the state?" Kirvestä asked good-naturedly. DyneTech single-handedly funded Kirvestä's re-election in exchange for no-bid contracts to lease out sections of Realgem Tower. Kirvestä wiped several beads of sweat leaking from his brow.

"Well, sir, I'm sure you're well aware that Pokemon are hinging on extinction. We think that we might have a solution," Massadar explained. He fished through his pockets for a small thumb drive with DyneTech's logo on it and put it on Kirvestä's desk. "I'd love to explain my research to you, but I think it really speaks for itself."

Kirvestä nervously fingered the drive and inserted it into his computer successfully after having to flip it over three times to find the correct way to put it in. He clicked on the video entitled "Project " and played it.

The screen went black briefly. It then cut to black and white footage of a padded room with a naked male chained to the floor at the arms and legs. He was struggling with the chains, pulling them taught with each of his limbs in a futile attempt to break his forsaken bounds. The room briefly filled with a gas and the subject stopped moving. Immediately, his arms and legs started moving as if he was having a stroke. Despite having no audio, it was readily apparent to Kirvestä that the test subject was screaming. Blood leaked from his eyes and ears, while vomit shot from his mouth.

It was subtle at first. Kirvestä thought he had noticed a few extra hairs on the subject's chest. The hair expanded to his arms and legs, until he was entirely covered in it. Blood flowed from above the subject's anus as something-tumor like appeared to protrude from within. A long tail quickly adorned the visibly shorter subject's backside. The face then elongated into a cat-like snout and the ears moved up his skull and cupped his scalp.

"What the hell was that?" Kirvestä roared, shooting up from his desk. He yanked the thumb drive containing the snuff film from his computer and threw it back at Massadar.

"This is Project Marth. Using a chemical formula designated Paternus Hypotitrate, or PHT for short, we've successfully managed to resequence a human's DNA into that of a Pokemon," Massadar explained. "In terms of human health, this is an incredible breakthrough. We're only a hop-skip-jump away from curing HIV and most cancers—but where is the profit in that?" Massadar flashed Kirvestä a toothy grin, "We are close, so very, very close, to turning these hybrids into full Pokemon using a second phase of the resequencing."

"That's insane!" Kirvestä shot back.

"Perhaps. But think about it—we can create Electivire hybrids to power our electric turbines. We can create Wailords for their blubber. We can create Mewtwo for our armies! Energy will be cheap, dividends will be high… and _campaign finance contributions will flow freer than water._"

Kirvestä was silent for a moment. Massadar was hoping that he would understand the ramifications of either decision. "…What do you need?"

"A generous government grant and access to a few death row inmates for experiments. Kidnapping people is so expensive these days," Massadar explained. "What's holding us back is the pesky law of conservation of mass. Our trials either need more mass or less. If there's more—where does it come from? And less—where does it go?"

"Done. Now get out of my office."

Since then, an interesting development occurred.

"It all started with a lead," Richard Morgan said to the press swarming his table. "We were a loose team of anthropologists and archaeologists working out of Slateport University, studying the ancient Nasmar civilization that was based in Orre. For those who need a refresher in Fifth Grade social studies, the Nasmar were a tribe of indigenous people said to be the first real society on Maridia."

The crowd of reporters laughed at the cheap joke.

"What's strange about the Nasmar is that we can find traces of their civilization in almost all regions of the world. However, there's no evidence that they "ruled the world," so to speak. It's more like small villages of Nasmar appeared in many different places at once. No evidence of migration or communication. It is honestly one of Maridia's greatest mysteries.

"Anyways, several new texts were unearthed by Phenac University from a dig site near Outskirt Stand. We translated them and it told us about a temple tucked away under the earth containing a very precious treasure. We got our visas approved and purchased the property where the treasure was said to be," Morgan continued. Pictures of the dig site were displayed on the screen. One of them showed Morgan and his wife at the foot of the underground temple, pointing upwards. Kirvestä decided that Morgan must have had the same haircut for the past thirty years: _There's no way someone just_ chooses _to get a mullet these days._

"We of course found the treasure and several tablets explaining what it is. The name of the trinket translates roughly into the "Crystal of Power." Our official translation of the tablets can be found in the paper we published in _Archaeology Monthly_, but to give you the short of it: there are seven of these crystals identical to this," Morgan said, pulling a cloth off of a box on the table, revealing a purple shard encased in glass, "scattered all over the world. The Nasmar believed that these were the tools of power of the great evil talked about in their Creation myth."

Morgan flipped the top of the casing open and handled the crystal with careful regard, "now, the tablet also tells us that this crystal was able to make certain statues of theirs glow. From our prior research, we knew that, in Orre, they created certain ceremonial statues out of the plentiful tungsten supply. So, naturally, we found the nearest source of tungsten," his wife handed him a lightbulb. He placed the silver tip onto the crystal and it glowed, "to see what would happen. This crystal appears to be emitting a near limitless amount of energy. Our science cannot explain why, but we at the Morgan Company and Slateport University think that it should be put to good use. As such, in association with President Harris Kim, we are working on a new kind of power plant that will be able to provide the world with cheap energy. Now, the few Pokemon that are left working in power plants will be able to retire and focus on, well, making families."

The audience quickly rose and started clapping. Their discovery was nothing short of amazing, why wouldn't they? Kirvestä figured. He threw the television remote straight at the television, creating a spiderweb crack straight in the middle. "F_U_CK!"

Immediately, he had his Chief of Staff on the line. "Why the hell wasn't I informed of this?"

"Archaeological digs are honestly really rare. We generally assumed most of the good stuff had been dug up. They bought all the rights fair and square, there's nothing we can do," he tried to explain to the angered Kirvestä.

He slammed down the phone without even saying a word edgewise. His next phone call was to Marlena Spiro, Chairwoman of the Sevii Islands Coalition. "Those crystals are _mine_, and I'm going to make sire Kim knows that. Are you with me or against me?"

Spiro, the leader of the closest ally of Orre in the previous world war, was quick to respond, "Of course. I've been waiting a long time to stick it to those Hoenn bastards. We'll knock that smile right off Kim's face."

And with that phone call, the groundwork for another war had been laid.

"Now look, Pahaa," Harris Kim said to Kirvestä over the phone. "We are not going to have another war. The people of the world have suffered for far too long. However, we cannot give you the crystal either. Quite frankly, it's against the law in both my country and yours. They found it, and legally I might add. I can't go and repossess people's legal property. What kind of precedent would that set?"

Kirvestä was silent for a moment, searching for the correct retort. His mental calculus indicated that his military forces were significantly weaker than that of Hoenn. An all-out brawl would lead to his hanging in Evergrande. Suddenly, a better idea bubbled up into his brain.

"If you do not return the crystal, I'll turn your people into monsters," Kirvestä threatened.

Kim was taken aback by the threat. _What the hell does he mean by that?_ he mused. _Is it some kind of metaphor? Is he threatening a nuclear holocaust? No… he can't be. The planet hasn't seen a nuclear weapon in hundreds of years. We'd_ know _if he built one._ "Pahaa, I have no idea what you're talking about. As it stands, there isn't much I can do for you. Now, I'd like to urge you to take a day to clear your head, calm down, and think it over. I'll have my secretary schedule a lunch for us at the end of the week and we can sort all this out and maybe get Orre a deal for free energy. Is that okay?"

"You'll regret it," Kirvestä said and hung up the phone. Hoenn's military was put on high alert. The Hoenn Allegiance Navy was dispatched to the edges of Hoenn's sea borders, waiting to engage any enemy or shoot down any ordinance headed their way.

Kirvestä called Massadar back into his office. "I want you to weaponize the PHT virus by tonight."

"What?" Massadar spat back.

"Hoenn is going to learn to not f_u_ck with us," Kirvestä explained. Massadar sighed and grabbed the phone from inside his jacket pocket. He tapped in a number and spoke briefly with someone at DyneTech.

"We can do that. But, please keep in mind, you _will_ be in DyneTech's pocket for the rest of your political career," Massadar warned. Kirvestä didn't care—he wanted the crystal back where it belonged. With that much energy, he would have DyneTech in his pocket, and perhaps the rest of the world.

With delusions of grandeur taking firm hold of Kirvestä's mind, he decided that he would make an example of Hoenn's closest ally, Kanto. With the heightened security around Hoenn, a missile would never make it to land. However, a missile would make it relatively unmolested over Mt. Mortar and into Saffron City. When he had received confirmation that the payload was loaded into the warhead and primed, Kirvestä pushed the button without so much as a thought to the lives in the city.

He dimmed the lights, poured himself a glass of scotch, and put his feet up on his desk, waiting for a call from Harris Kim. It wouldn't be too long now before they figure out what's going on in Saffron and that Orre single-handedly did it to them.

The door to Kirvestä's office opened, letting the hallway light into the darkened room. Kirvestä's chief of staff entered, "Oh, it's you," Kirvestä said. He grabbed another glass and poured him a shot of Scotch. "Ice or no?" Kirvestä's pleasantries became the last words he spoke. The chief, Kirvestä's killer, fled through the office window, leaving only the blade lodged in his heart behind.

The call never came.

* * *

Title Song: Let's Have a War by A Perfect Circle


	2. Release & Recognition: Finch I

**Part A: Peacecry**  
_Chapter 1: Release & Recognition_

**Finch**

_"Due to the lack of government legitimacy in Orre following the assassination of President Pahaa Kirvestä, DyneTech Enterprises has determined that it is in the best interest of the people of Orre to place the burden of leadership upon our shoulders. It is our hope that we can work with other leaders like Mr. Kim to ease international tensions caused by our predecessor's warmongering and usher in a new, golden era of peace for many years to come."_  
-Statement issued by DyneTech Enterprises' Public Relations Department following the murder of Pahaa Kirvestä

**OMS Docks, Gateon Port  
Orre**

Leigh Reynolds put his back against the wall and looked around the corner of the docks reserved for the OMS Navy. He was waiting for the two nearby soldiers to turn their backs so he could incapacitate them. One of the two soldiers lit a cigarette and sat down on a nearby ledge and began speaking candidly with his battle-brother; it was the kind of deep conversation only deemed acceptable under the shroud of nightfall.

"What the hell are we doing here, Boz?" the smoking soldier asked. "There's six different generals and politicians each claiming to be the rightful successor to _El Presidente_, to say nothing of the giant corporation with their own private security force." He took another long drag. Boz said nothing. Reynolds was unable to determine if it was because he thought there was more to the statement or was uncomfortable discussing the subject of mutiny. Regardless, there was a brief silence following the drag. "I mean, you've got a family, right? I've got a wife and kids at home that I worry about every minute. And it's not like working here is going to put food on the table. I don't understand how they expect to maintain an orderly military if there's a f_u_cking pay freeze! Which dictator's d_i_ck do I need to suck to get a dollar bill around here?"

"Where's your patriotism?" Boz asked the other, who was lighting up another cigarette. "Orre is on the knife's edge of war with Hoenn again, and you're sitting here smoking cigarettes and complaining about not having enough money to feed your family? If you love your family so god damn much, you shouldn't be wasting coin on your bad habits."

"Hey!" the chain smoker said rather loudly. Reynolds cursed under his breath. The last thing these two bozos needed to do was attract attention to this location. "What's your so-called _patriotism_ worth if I'm dead? As far as I'm concerned, this is just a job. What's stopping me from getting the hell out of here and becoming a mercenary? I hear Aqua PMC has signing bonuses these days." Reynolds was tickled when the chain smoker mentioned his private military company.

Boz shoved the chain smoker. "Alright, your d_i_ck's feeling a little _Evergrande_ tonight, huh?" Boz quipped, equating the chain smoker's sympathies with Hoenn's capital city. The chain smoker came back at Boz hard, cracking him across the skull with his nightstick. _Ouch,_ Reynolds thought. _That sounded like it had to hurt._ Boz fell to the concrete instantly, his bulky gear creating a nice _THUD_.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god!" The chain smoker threw his cigarette to the ground and kneeled over to look at Boz. His head was bleeding where he had been hit. The panicked soldier started to frantically shake Boz, as if he were only asleep. "Boz? Quit it! It was just a joke… Boz? Boz? I'm so sorry, I'll straighten myself out… I just wasn't thinking straight, yanno? Boz? Boz?"

Reynolds took advantage of the moment of panic. He emerged from the corner and pointed his Mk. 22 tranquilizer gun at the chain smoker, hitting him square in the back of the neck. The soldier fell to the ground next to Boz, sleeping peacefully for the next few hours. Grateful that he didn't have to kill the man, Reynolds fished through his pockets for a business card and placed it in the soldier's pocket. _Perhaps he'll act in his family's best interest when he wakes up._ He then tapped his throat mic quickly three times. A full platoon of Aqua soldiers quickly rounded the bend and joined him.

"Thunder God, this is Finch," Reynolds said to his commanding officer over the radio. He wasn't one for humble codenames. "Thunder God, do you read me?"

"Loud and clear, Finch my boy," Raidon Makoto replied. Makoto was the current leader of Aqua PMC, a ragtag group of mercenaries that took a special kind of pride in their work. Makoto considered them the "best in the business," however, Reynolds didn't seem to recall an issue of _Forbes_ wherein they ranked the world's best death squads.

"We've secured entry point 4. Is everything green?" Reynolds told Makoto. His demolitions expert, Frank Bueller, was securing a plastic explosive to the metal door protecting the docks from Aqua's wrath. The soldiers in the squad started backing up.

"Five by five," Makoto replied. "We are go for op." Reynolds nodded to Bueller, who blew the door clean its hinges inward. The platoon flooded in through the door and onto the port, at the same time as three other Aqua squads. At the front of the pack was Raidon Makoto, a man who preferred to lead his own troops into battle. He would always say to Reynolds, _Finch, how can you expect a man lay down his life for you if you're not willing to do the same, if not more?_ Raidon's creed certainly scored him a lot of points amongst his troops. It was one of the many manifestations of his charisma and eccentricity.

Another was, of course, Makoto's swords. Reynolds groaned when Makoto unsheathed the two blades to hack into Orre soldiers. He would drone on and on about how it was the only "honorable" and "manly" way to conduct battle. _To look someone in the eye and fight them with the very extension of your soul,_ he would pontificate. No matter how many times Reynolds told Makoto that he was a god damn fool, he refused to back down. "You're going to get yourself killed someday, Raidon. That's a mess I can't bail you out of."

Not one for killing, Finch clung to the back of the action. Few Aquas were absolutely gung-ho about killing, however, this kind of work does attract the token few psychopaths here and there. Most saw it as an undesirable outcome that should be avoided if possible. Aqua drill sergeants were told to instruct the new recruits to take non-lethal shots to minimize the amount of damage. Despite Makoto's pseudo-philosophy, he also tried to kill sparingly.

Reynolds felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He turned around to stare face-to-face with a recruit he didn't recognize. It sort of hurt to look at him; the soldier was getting on in his years. He just sort of stood there, like he was in shock for a moment.

"Problem…" Reynolds surreptitiously looked down at the nameplate on his chest armor. "…Petty Officer Lando?"

Reg Lando snapped into attention and saluted Reynolds, "No sir, I just didn't expect to bump into you here."

"At ease, soldier," Reynolds said. There was something about Lando that put him off. He couldn't decide if it was the fact that he was a geriatric combatant or it was just his face. "Get into the battle, grandpa."

Lando nodded and joined the fray, brandishing his Aqua-issue Mk. 22. Reynolds saw a faint red dot in the corner of his eye. He threw himself behind a nearby crate to avoid the sniper; however, he quickly realized that it was one of Aqua's. He slinked his way through the battlefield to join up with the sniper, another Petty Officer named Peter Jennings. "God dammit, man, what the hell are you thinking?"

"The enemy was behind you," Jennings replied. Reynolds looked back and realized that there was a headless body laying where Reynolds and Lando had just had their chat.

"Thanks," Reynolds replied sheepishly. Jennings brushed off the compliment and took aim near Raidon Makoto, picking off two soldiers about to put holes in Makoto's back. "Raidon might not know it, but I think you're his guardian angel."

"Oh no, he does. My orders are to protect Raidon when he's got his swords out," Jennings recounted, lightly tapping the hair trigger on his VSS Vintorez sniper rifle. Without hesitation, Reynolds took aim and tagged two nearby soldiers charging towards his and Reynolds' positions with tranquilizer rounds.

"I've got your back, Jennings," Reynolds reassured him. He then returned his gaze back to Raidon, who was now fighting a blue man with four arms. He had to do a double take. What the hell was that monstrosity? "Pete… what the hell is that?"

"Beats me. I figure its prolly one of them Pokemon hybrids all the rage in Kanto right now," Jennings mused. He shot the soldiers standing around the Machamp hybrid officer, allowing Raidon to finish off the monstrosity with his swords. "Boss would have wanted to kill that thing himself. Improves morale that way."

"Raidon certainly has all his bases covered in terms of PR," Reynolds remarked. In all his years of fighting alongside Raidon, he had never realized that he had put this much forethought into his battle theatrics.

"Oh that? That's nothing. You should see the goods on his personal photographer. Oh boy, I bet that the boss gets a slice of that every night. Yee-haw!" Jennings so eloquently quipped while gunning down enemies. Reynolds, who was not one for the objectification of women, politely ignored Jennings' diarrhea of the mouth.

After a few more tense moments, the remaining Orre soldiers began to retreat. Makoto broadcasted over the radio "Stand down, folks. We've made our point." And with that, Aqua PMC just let the surviving members of the Orre military walk away, bound to exaggerate stories of Raidon Makoto and his band of thugs' prowess on the battlefield. "Get ready to board the objective, the _OMS Angelwing_!"

Using the bridges between the idle aircraft carrier and the docks, the Aqua soldiers piled onto their prize. Reynolds reconnected with his squadron, "Just because the soldiers at the docks retreated doesn't mean more can't be hiding here. Fan out, use stealth tactics, and let's make sure that there aren't any empty rooms on the ship before we even cast off."

Reynolds opted to rendezvous with the commander on the bridge of the _Angelwing_. Makoto was already there, working with the sailors he had brought with him to get the ship onto the high seas. "I'd like to get the _Deathwing_ out of port before Orre is able to send reinforcements. Whoever is in charge of the navy here isn't going to take this one lying down."

"_Deathwing?_" Reynolds asked. "Your rechristening is a little macabre, don't you think?"

"Intentionally so. I plan on painting this baby matte black to strike fear into the hearts of enemies wherever we go. We can probably save ourselves a lot of trouble if our enemies are fleeing away from us as opposed to charging _towards_ us," Makoto explained. "Anyways, Finch, since you're here, I'd like to give you a promotion."

"Promotion? I'm already a Captain. The next highest rank is you," Reynolds spat out, not expecting the offer. An intrusive thought bubbled up from the back of his mind wherein the commander had taken inspiration from the Dread Pirate Roberts, and that he was intending on passing down the name "Raidon Makoto" to Reynolds. It would certainly explain the outlandish name that Makoto thrust upon himself.

"Baby steps; I'm sure you'll be in my shoes someday. My idea is to make you my Number 2. Vice-Admiral Finch… how does that sound to you?"

"Making you Admiral Makoto?"

"I think we've really got something with the whole nautical theme. I mean, we have a ship now," Makoto mused. He sat down in the Captain's Chair when the sailors and engineers gave him the go-ahead to cast off. He pressed a button on the armrest releasing the anchor. "Alright, _Deathwing_, set sail for… wherever!"

The _AMS Deathwing_ backed out of Gateon Port for its maiden voyage under new management. Reynolds watched the sea chug along beside the ship out of the window. It seemed like Gateon was getting smaller and smaller at an ever increasing pace. "I accept."

"Commander, it looks like there's an incoming missile," one of the engineers reported to the commander. The trajectory of the missile was thrown up onto the viewscreen along with an estimation of how long until it hit.

"Shoot it down!" Makoto replied.

"We can't. Our ordinance is dry," the engineer shot back. The missile hit the side of the ship, sending Reynolds rocking forward. His face slammed onto the nearby console. His nose began to tingle and leak blood faster than a gulf oil spill. _I really hope that's not broken._

"The missile only caused minor damage to the hull upon impact!" the engineer reported. He looked down at the screen in front of him and furrowed his brow. "It seems like the missile didn't have an explosive payload."

"Looks like it's our lucky day," Makoto claimed. The ship continued to move unabated until Reynolds had noticed that the bridge was filled with a very strange smell. It was sterile, almost like a hospital. His hands found their way from his nose to his ears, which were now also bleeding. He then keeled over, heaving up gobs of vomit onto the ground. He wiped the blood from his eyes for long enough that he could get a good look around the room and saw that everyone else was in a similar state of misery.

_The missile didn't have an explosive payload because it was filled to the brim with a biological agent_!


	3. Release & Recognition: Harry I

**Harry**

_"Captivity changes a man. After being denied the basic necessities of life—food, water, medicine—much less the basic human rights that Locke claims we are all born with, for many years, one begins to become sickened by the idea of punishment. People of Hoenn, I must ask you to feel the pain I felt locked away in that Sevii Islands POW camp during the war, not for revenge, but for understanding. Please, friends, help me enact my vision of a new kind of peace; one based on mutual growth and respect for all life."_  
-Campaign speech made by Harris Kim in Rustboro City, several weeks before being elected President of Hoenn

**Capitol Building, Evergrande City  
Hoenn**

"There have been several points in time when we, as a people, have our courage and principles tested. It is here that we are offered the temptation by the devils of our prejudices to do the wrong thing, the selfish thing, solely to preserve ourselves, our families, and our values at the cost of our fellow man. But time and time again, the people of Hoenn have proven that they are capable of doing, not the easy thing, but the _right_ thing… And we have come out stronger because of it.

"Yesterday, President Pahaa Kirvestä of Orre launched a missile into the heart of Kanto, our closest ally, over a petty trinket—the newly discovered Crystal of Power. He let his greed get the better of his humanity and now the people of Kanto are suffering for it. This missile contained a biological agent developed by DyneTech Enterprises called Paternus Hypotitrate, or PHT for short. This virus has another name, the Pokemon Hybrid Transformation. As the secondary name suggests, it turns humans, the good citizens of earth, it turns one into a hybrid: half-human, half-Pokemon.

"Some have publically denounced these creatures, calling them names I do not wish to legitimize via repetition. However, many others have responded to this problem as the shining examples of the human race that we should all aspire to be, calling for medical aid, food, fuel, and most importantly, acceptance to be sent to Kanto.

"I beg of not only the people of Hoenn, but to all the people of the world that believe in their fellow man to follow suit. This is a global tragedy, one that the likes of Maridia has never seen and will hopefully never see again, and the only way we will be able to get through this is to lend each other our strength and keep our weaknesses in check. We will stand united, or plunge into chaos.

"This is a sensitive time for foreign policy. We received word only a few hours ago that Kirvestä was found in his office dead, assassinated by his very people. This backlash is proof enough that Kirvestä's actions do not represent the opinions of the people of Orre, and because of this, I ask you to not hate them, but to forgive their trespasses and reinvite them to the world stage. I urge the people of Orre to determine a legitimate leader who can reach out to me across the ocean so that we can work together to rebuild Orre and Kanto alike and create another era of peace without the need of a new cloud of war.

"And to the leaders of DyneTech Eterprises, we urge you to send a representative to the Lilycove Viral Research Institute with all relevant research and samples of the PHT virus so we can develop more than just a vaccine, but a cure. I want nothing more than the people of Kanto to resume their normal lives as soon as possible, so they can all put this traumatic incident behind them.

"Good luck, and good night," Harris "Harry" Kim finished. As he walked back into the Capitol Building followed by an entourage of guards and his Vice-President Jonathan Frisby, the crowd that had gathered outside the Capitol to await the president's response roared in applause. Reporters crowded around the base of the stage, begging for personal interviews with Kim. Kim smiled at shook his head no. He tried to explain that was busy, but only managed to mouth the words "no time" to the reporters amidst the cacophony of the audience.

The group entered the Capitol Building's side door and back into the Hoenn Council's main office. Already sitting around the roundtable was Secretary of the Treasury Isaiah Carnegie, Secretary of War Bron Krad, Secretary of Health Dr. Myron Asch, and several prominent members of Hoenn's Parliament.

"Good speech," Krad said to Kim as he sat down at the roundtable. King Arthur claimed to fancy roundtables because there was no head, yet wherever Harry Kim sat at the table, the entire attention of its occupants followed. "I think you were too soft on DyneTech though. Have you seen that they claimed leadership over Orre?"

"I am aware, yes," Kim replied. "I am going to politely ignore the claim as long as I can though; as I think corporations should not be creating political structures."

"Your idealism isn't going to get us those samples," Dr. Asch impressed upon Kim.

"That doesn't mean we need to kowtow to their insanity. We don't negotiate with corporations just as much as we don't negotiate with terrorists," Kim decreed. The room fell silent for a moment. The members of Parliament looked at each other incredulously.

"Look, Harry," The Honorable Orson Barkley, almost thirty years Kim's elder, began. Harry's brow furrowed at condescension, "Your idealism is great for PR. It really galvanizes the public around you and is most definitely going to net you a second term. I know you haven't been in politics long, but you need to come to terms with how things work in Evergrande."

It was true. Following the coup Kim staged in his POW camp at the end of the war, he quickly became a national legend. With no prior political experience, Kim ran for President against Barkley and easily defeated him.

"You speak to the President with more respect!" Frisby barked back.

Harry put his hand in front of Frisby to reassure him, almost as if he was saying _It's Okay._ "Now, now, Jon, Mr. Barkley does have a point. He has dedicated his entire life to public service. We could probably all learn a thing or two from his years of experience. Anyways, Mr. Barkley, please continue. I'd like to hear you out."

Barkley sneered at Frisby and then said, "Yes, well, like I was saying Mr. Kim, but we need to be pragmatic here. Who the f_u_ck cares about some backwater desert and its political structure? What we need are the samples of that virus so we can make a vaccine, and the only way we can do it is if we recognize DyneTech's legitimacy." On a whim, Harry pulled up Barkley's Hoenn Election Contribution Union report from the prior year on his tablet to see that DyneTech was one of Barkley's largest campaign financiers.

"Orson is right," Dr. Asch echoed. "We need to worry more about Hoenn lives. We need a vaccine in case someone tries to turn _us_ into abominations and we need a cure to save the lives of the good people of Kanto." Asch was born and raised in Kanto. He had been the lead researcher at the Saffron Medical Academy up until Harry Kim recruited him to run the Lilycove Viral Research Institute. Kim was aware that he still had family and close friends living in Saffron.

"Are you both out of your minds?" Bron Krad rose up and slammed his fists onto the table. "Give me fifteen Dark Angels and we'll topple DyneTech, make their executives pay dearly, steal the virus, and even set up a new government in Orre more receptive to our interests!" Krad was referencing the Hoenn military's commando team, the Dark Angel Renegade Knights, or DARK for short. Krad had been the founder of the group during his time in the Hoenn military.

"Calm down, all of you," Kim said. "If we, Hoenn's best and brightest, can't speak to each other cordially, what hope does the rest of world have?"

Suddenly, the double doors behind Harry Kim were tossed open as General Hans Vehlstein of the Hoenn Military burst in, followed by Lieutenant Generals Michael Anone and Nathaniel Winterfield. "Mr. President, there's been a new development in Orre! Apparently, the OMS aircraft carrier _Angelwing_ has been stolen."

"Really now? Do we know who did it?" Kim inquired. He closed the HECU report on his tablet and pulled up the specs of the _Angelwing_. It was a Sharpedo-class aircraft carrier, recently constructed to serve as the flagship of the Orre Navy.

"Based on eyewitness reports that leaked to the media, the ship was stolen by Aqua PMC, the band of mercenaries lead by Raidon Makoto," the general reported. "What's worse is that DyneTech launched a PHT Missile at the aircraft carrier while it was retreating, infecting the bandits and exposing Orre to the PHT. It's only a matter of time before Orre turns into Kanto." Kim sat back in his chair and steepled his hands. He scrawled a few different notes on the legal pad in front of him, trying to determine the logistics of the plan that was unfolding in his head. He reviewed a report in front of him to find that one of the six people vying for power in Orre was Admiral Patrick Smith of the OMS.

"This might just the boon we need to prevent all-out war. Jon, I'd like you to reach out to Admiral Patrick Smith, he's made a claim for the presidency of Orre. Tell him that we are very sorry to hear about the _Angelwing_ and that we are diverting resources to finding and recovering his flagship. Because we sympathize with his cause, we will also be supporting his bid for presidency," Harry detailed. Frisby nodded. "General Vehlstein, I'd like your soldiers to prepare for any retaliation we might receive from the Sevii Islands for this. Finally, Lieutenant Winterfield, I would like you to handpick a squadron, including recommendations from Mr. Krad for our best DARK commandos, and go into Orre to retrieve a sample of the PHT Virus from DyneTech." Michael Anone rolled his eyes at the request. It was fairly public knowledge that "Neo" Winterfield was the favorite to succeed the general upon his retirement next year.

"Yessir!" Winterfield saluted the president. "But just one thing… What about the _Angelwing_?"

"What about it? I'm not wasting military resources on finding _one_ ship. If they become a problem, we'll just buy them off."


	4. Release & Recognition: Neo I

**Neo**

_"What's your name, sunglasses?"  
"Nathaniel Winterfield."  
"I don't remember voting for_ you_, soldier."  
"You voted for my father, sir!"  
"He's not your daddy anymore; I am!"  
"Yes sir, daddy, sir!"  
"Oh, you're a wise-_a_ss eh? Standing here looking like Neo from the god damn_ Matrix_. I don't like your attitude, soldier. Now drop and give me 100!"_  
-Drill Sergeant Roger Simpson coining the nickname "Neo" Winterfield at a Hoenn boot camp seven years ago

**Barracks, Evergrande City  
Hoenn**

Following his meeting with President Kim, Winterfield returned to his office in the military barracks across the street from the Capitol. He hung his gray military peacoat up on the coatrack and slouched in his office chair, reflecting on the task at hand. _Put together a strike team with DARKies to raid DyneTech? Quite the tall order._

Not even thirty, Winterfield was the youngest person in the Hoenn army to achieve the rank of Lieutenant General. He made a name for himself as a firebrand mission commander during the Sevii Conflict four years ago. He had led a small band of Hoenn forces to retake Southern Island after his commanding officer had been murdered. Shortly afterwards, the war had ended. Winterfield had been named a hero and was given a parade in his hometown of Mauville City. It was during these victory celebrations that he had met Harry Kim.

_"I was quite impressed by your heroism on Southern Island," Kim said to an already drunk Winterfield. "Without you, our key ports in Alto Mare might have been damaged beyond use. If anything, I'd consider_ you_ to be the_ true_ hero of this war."_

"Oh, no, nonsense," Neo slurred and took another gulp from his beer. "You… You're the hero! You started a freaking riot in that prison camp!"

"I appreciate the modesty," Kim replied. He locked eyes with the barkeep and put up a single finger. Kim was immediately presented with a beer on the house. "But, anyways, Nathaniel, I have something I'd like to ask you."

"Neo," he corrected. "Everyone calls me Neo."

"Right, Neo_," Kim replied. "We're both war heroes and still have our whole lives ahead of us. These privileges afford us the ability to do practically whatever we want. I mean, who wouldn't hire you for a job knowing that you sent an entire country packing? Businesses would quake in their boots to know that a competitor hired you. Universities would fight to make you their doctoral candidate. Court rooms would defer to your opinion based solely on your name." Winterfield's eyes went glassy for a second as he registered what Kim was telling him. "You and I… we don't just have power. We have_ possibility_, something few will ever possess, much less understand its gravity."_

"I'm following," Winterfield replied, finishing his drink.

"I witnessed something… horrible in that POW camp. It completely changed the way I see people… the world even," Kim recalled. His eyes welled up a bit as he broached the subject of the POW camp.

"…what was it?"

"I can't put it into words. It was just so… surreal," Kim told him. "Please, I'm not talking down to you. Just trust me. What I'm convinced of now is that I'm the only one with the vision and the possibility to save humanity from itself."

"Well what do you need?" Winterfield tried to suppress a drunken laugh. Save the world? This guy has to be full of it.__

"I'm going to run for President of Hoenn… and I'm going to win." Winterfield's eyes widened. He's serious,_ he though. "I need people who share my vision that I can count on in all the right places. Neo, what I'm asking you to do is stay in the military. I promise you, I'll make it worth your while."_

That conversation changed his life. He stayed in the military and after Kim's election a year later; Winterfield was promoted to Lieutenant General. Hundreds of other candidates much higher up on the promotional ladder were passed over to send Winterfield straight up to the Number 2 position in Hoenn's military. Whilst Kim never confirmed it, Winterfield was sure that it was his doing. Following his promotion, Winterfield asked Kim what he wanted him to do. Kim's reply: "Wait."

Winterfield figured that the best thing he could do while biding his time was to be true to himself and to serve the people of Hoenn with honor. Many have tried to corrupt his honor, whether through bribes, misconduct, or sex, Winterfield kept his resolve. He remained the person that Harry Kim knew he could be.

Had this been the Sevii Conflict, Mike Anone would be the first name on his strike team wishlist. Anone served in the same platoon as Winterfield. As far as Winterfield was concerned, Mike was his brother. Unfortunately, Anone's rank means he has other responsibilities. Winterfield's next choice was Shairii Woldrac, a close friend of his at the barracks. She also had combat experience, but served in a different platoon than Winterfield during the Conflict.

Winterfield punched in 7893, Woldrac's internal phone number. "Shairii, its Neo. Can you join me in my office?"

"Be right over," Woldrac said.

In that time, Winterfield's secretary left a docket from Secretary Krad regarding his preferred Dark Angel commandos to take on the mission and two fresh cups of coffee. Woldrac entered the office just as Winterfield's secretary exited. Woldrac was often seen with a smile affixed to her face. She loved life and in return, life loved her back.

"What's up, Neo?" she asked. Winterfield glossed over the dockets, picking out names he recognized from the list. _James Anderson. Dagny Cage. Aaron Rubin. Blake Powers. Phillip Wardman…_

"I have a mission directly from the president and I would like _you_ on my team," Winterfield explained, sipping from his saucer of black coffee. "How do you take your coffee?"

"One cream, two sugars."

"Anyways, President Kim has asked me to lead a strike team into Orre and steal samples of the PHT virus from DyneTech." Winterfield handed Woldrac her coffee.

"That sounds ridiculously dangerous. Doesn't DyneTech have its own private security force? That's in addition to the six or so warlords that each have a chunk of Orre's army and those Aqua bandits that are roaming around the seas there," she analyzed.

"I think we'll be fine," Winterfield said self-assuredly.

"I admire the confidence," Woldrac said. Winterfield signed off on Krad's suggestions and added one more soldier to the list: Patrick Costello. Costello was a career soldier that had already been in the service for many years when the Conflict happened. Winterfield met him at the Battle of Navel Rock and had been enamored with his wisdom. He believed that this was the perfect excuse to work with him again.

"When do we leave?" Woldrac asked.

"I'm going to have my secretary send out the orders, but hopefully tomorrow morning."

-

Winterfield returned home after finalizing the mission details. He was privileged to have his own condominium in Evergrande Tower, home to many members of Hoenn's parliament. The greatest amenity, as far as Winterfield was concerned, was living close to his parents. His father, The Honorable Nathaniel Winterfield I, was still an active member of Parliament at a spry 88 years old.

"Welcome home, soldier boy." Winterfield's fiance, Kate, greeted him with a kiss.

"Why, Miss Masters, I'm only here to protect you from those all those nasty Seviicks that prowl the streets at night hoping to hurt smart, beautiful girls like yourself," Winterfield flirted. "I think you're trying to seduce me." He put down his briefcase and entered into his domain—the kitchen—to get to work making dinner.

"What's on the menu tonight, Chef Nate?" she inquired, looking over Winterfield's shoulder as he flipped through a cookbook.

"I'm working on a little going away dinner," he told her. She frowned instantly. He had just returned from an inspection on the Hoenn mainland; Kate was hoping she'd get to spend a bit more time with Winterfield.

"Where to this time? Visiting the recovering troops in Lilycove VRI? Training at Ft. Sootopolis?" she asked somewhat annoyed.

"It's a little classified," Winterfield recounted. "_But…_ we're going into Orre to steal a sample of the PHT Virus."

"No!" she said. "I don't want you getting shot at! I thought you were supposed to have a safe, cushy desk job?"

"I did too. But these are direct orders from President Kim. I suppose he wants this job done right," Winterfield recounted.

"Are these the orders you've been _waiting for_ all these years?" Kate asked.

"No, I don't think so. Those orders are for another day," he explained. He pantomimed standing at attention, "Until then, I will remain _dutifully on watch_."

"Well I hope I'm not distracting you then," Kate replied playfully.

-

The morning of the mission came. Winterfield got up, dressed himself, had a lengthy goodbye with Kate, and got on the train to the barracks. According to his text messages, Woldrac had already organized the team and their cargo ship was ready for departure. The plan was to take the cargo ship up until two miles out from Orre and then scuba to the shore. They'd ditch their gear and make their way via a vehicle procured on site to Realgem Tower.

Once the train arrived at the base of the Barracks, Winterfield was examined at the security checkpoint. After being given the all clear, he swiped his identity badge on the door's RFID reader and the base's door open. He made his way to the docking bay and met up with Woldrac and Costello.

"Patrick Costello, it's been a very long time," Neo said, saluting Costello.

"B_u_llshit, it's too damn soon. There can never be too much peace," Costello replied, saluting his superior officer. The two men broke formality and shook hands. "How the hell ya been?"

"The barracks have been treating me well. I'll admit though, I miss being able to stretch my legs." Winterfield quickly suited up and boarded the cargo plane with the rest of his men. He gave a signal to the captain of the plane to take off. "Alright, men. As of 0800 hours, Operation Liberty's Crusade has begun."


	5. Release & Recognition: Finch II

**Finch**

_"I saw you out there, and I've got to say, I really liked your moxie. So I'll tell you what, I'm_ commuting _your punishment… on one condition."  
"And what's that?"  
"For the remaining time on your sentence, you belong to me."_  
-Raidon Makoto to Leigh Reynolds, shortly before freeing him from life in prison in Mauville Penitentiary fifteen years ago

**_AMS Deathwing_****  
En Route to Fiore**

The painful convulsions stopped after what seemed like hours to Reynolds. He was lying in a pile of most of his body liquids and a layer of his skin that had shed like a snake during the transformation. He put his hand up in front of his face and noticed that they were blue, with long, claw like nails and webbing between his fingers. He rubbed the blood out of his eyes, in hopes that it the source of the strange new skin color. Unfortunately for him, it wasn't. Reynolds stood up and looked at his feet, which looked more like hands now. They were similarly webbed, with long sharp nails and a similar blue tint. The room looked like it grew somewhat to him, but he couldn't tell if he was just woozy.

The metallic console in front of him was reflective. He got a good look at himself—he was a monster! He resembled the Machamp hybrid he saw on the OMS docks only a few hours ago. And then it struck him: _I'm a hybrid… a Golduck hybrid!_ Immediately, he felt sick to his stomach again and dry heaved (there was nothing left in his stomach to purge). The _Deathwing_ was hit by a PHT Missile. It all made sense to him now—the PHT missile that hit Kanto was fired from Orre. It would make sense that they had a second salvo.

After fully wrapping his mind around what had happened, Reynolds again became aware of the others in the room. Raidon Makoto was next to him, still recovering from the attack. It seemed that Reynolds was the first to come to. He bent over to wipe the blood from Makoto's eyes. Makoto grabbed his wrist and gripped it… _hard_.

"No," he barely groaned. "I can take it." Makoto's skin had also fallen off, revealing another layer of skin that was purple in color. Four purple spiked had grown out of his back in a star formation, piercing their way through his Aqua uniform. In the center of this new growth was a jewel. He had become a Starmie hybrid.

All around Reynolds, the soldiers on the bridge were screaming in pain. Some were praying to god for the pain to end, or in some cases, death. Others were wailing for their mothers. It was a sad sight to see—the big bad mercenary company reduced to sniveling children. To Reynolds, it spoke to the true horror of the missile.

He walked down to the second floor of the bridge and saw one healthy figure, standing up, as human as the day he was born. Reg Lando appeared to be completely unaffected by the PHT virus. Reynolds hoped to impress upon Lando his confusion with recent events and to ask him why it was that he was still human. Unfortunately, all that came out was "Why the hell aren't you a monster too?"

Lando noticed Reynolds descending the stairs and a brief moment of fear flashed before his eyes when he realized the difference between the two of them. "I… I'm just as surprised as you," he said defensively, then added "sir" as an afterthought. "When everyone was hit with… _whatever that was…_ I knew that someone needed to pilot the ship. I'm just doing my duty."

Reynolds tried his best to stare at Lando, but his vision kept gravitating to his sides. To him, it felt like Reynolds and Lando were magnets of the same polarity; it required thoughtful concentration to look the lone human in the eye. Reynolds made a mental note to take some Excedrin when he got the chance. _What the hell? Does he just have a natural immunity? Or maybe he's just a Ditto hybrid._ "Good work, soldier. Keep it up."

He went back up the stairs to check on Makoto. By the time he returned, Makoto was already standing, albeit shakily, on his two feet. "What happened?"

"I'm pretty sure we were hit with a PHT missile. Raidon, I don't know how to say this, but we're all Pokemon hybrids now," Reynolds reported. "Well… except for Lando."

"Who?"

"Petty Officer Reg Lando. He's the one driving the ship right now on the second floor. I guess that he's immune," Reynolds said, pointing down the stairs. Makoto used one of his two katanas as a cane to walk down the stairway and talk to Lando. Reynolds decided that his efforts were better spent helping the other soldiers come to. After the rest of the bridge was conscious and mostly recovered, he fumbled around with the controls until he found the PA system, taking it upon himself to inform the rest of the ship what happened.

"Men and women of Aqua, this is Vice-Admiral Leigh Reynolds," Reynolds introduced, taking personal satisfaction in the new rank. _Raidon was right. It does sound good!_ "Several hours ago, the _AMS Deathwing_ was hit by a PHT missile as we were making our escape from Orre waters. In the past few hours, thanks to herculean efforts by certain soldiers, we were still able to keep the ship running." Reynolds then went on to explain what the PHT missile was and the effects it would have. "It may take some time getting used to, but I am convinced that this curse was a blessing in disguise. In the meantime, make yourselves comfortable. It's going to be a few days before we return to our HQ in Fall City, Fiore."

Makoto approached Reynolds, clapping his hands. "Vice-Admiral really does have a ring to it, don't you think?" He put his hand on my back and said "Great speech, Finch. We'll be back home in no time. Little worried about bringing this PHT crap back to Fiore though. I'm going to have Tiantus check us out before we hit land." "Tiantus" was the nickname that Makoto had given Tyrus Hale, Aqua's Chief of Science. The name was more widely known for Hale's consulting work through Tiantus Industrial. He was an engineer by trade, but also dabbled a bit in biology, chemistry, and computer science. He had been begging for _years_ to add full time biologists and chemists to his department, but the budget was just too tight.

"You're spreading Tyrus thin. He's going to have no time to work on Project ZEPHYR if you keep distracting him," Reynolds tried to explain to Makoto. "You should at least hire him an Igor or something." At one point, Hale had requested a lab assistant specifically named "Igor."

"Lab assistants cost money," Makoto repeated what he tells Hale each time he asks. "Tiantus is more than capable to handle all the odd jobs while still working on Project ZEPHYR." Hale was, of course, the most overworked and underappreciated member of Aqua. Had it been anyone but Makoto, Hale would have quit ages ago. However, the two were childhood friends. Hale knew Makoto better than anyone.

"Hey Raidon," Frank Bueller entered the room carrying a strange mass. He tossed it at Makoto's feet.

"What's that?" Makoto asked.

"Oh that? It's a bomb," Bueller explained. "Don't worry, I took the detonator out. It's a dud now. We found a stowaway trying to plant it on the engine. He was doing kind of a sh_i_t job at it too, if you ask me." _To be fair, you have high standards,_ Reynolds thought.

Makoto wasn't necessarily taken aback by it—more confused than anything. "That's… what?" He processed it for a second and then said. "Well where is our saboteur?"

"We locked him up in the brig," Bueller said.

"Petty Officer Lando!" Makoto said. Lando quickly came up the stairs and saluted Makoto. "I commend your efforts for the past few hours. I know you're tired; however, I need you to deal with a problem for me. Emotionally, you're probably in the best position since you didn't just _change species_. We had a stowaway try to place a bomb on the _Deathwing_. Have Bueller take you down to the brig and interrogate him. I want to know everything."

"With gusto."


	6. Release & Recognition: Landon I

**Landon**

_"The New Order's goal is to return Maridia to the state of nature that Locke so alluringly promised us in his_ Second Treatise._"_  
-Private Journal of Landon Torvald

**Brig, ****_AMS Deathwing_****  
En Route to Fiore**

He saw it all. He knew it was true. To the fat cats, and the politicians, and the capitalists, and the socialists… It was all just a big f_u_cking joke. The joke, of course, being Landon Torvald's life. Torvald has spent all his life hiding from Hoenn satellites, masking his tracks on the Internet from Orre technosleuths, and paying only in cash to prevent the Kanto credit card companies from sending him mailers. _I've spent all those late nights doing research. Finding secrets that They don't want me to find. Inconvenient skeletons in their closets. Communiques that They thought no one would notice._

_"Don't forget, Mr. Barkley, we are bankrolling your reelection," the fat businessman said to the fat politician. They thought he wasn't listening, but he was. Torvald was listening everywhere._

The lock on the iron door twirled and it slammed open, exposing the dark room to sunlight. Torvald's arms were starting to hurt. A man could only hang from meat hooks by the hands for so long. The sudden flash of light hurt his eyes, but he had no hands for which to cover them. An old man stepped into the room and carefully closed the door. He pulled a drawstring hanging from the ceiling, turning a single light bulb on. "No! Don't turn on the lights. They'll be able to hear us. The darkness is our only confidante!"

The man was astonishingly old. His skin was so stretched out it looked like _something_ had been crawling around under it for years before finally being dragged out by the ankles. His long, grey, unkempt hair made him look like a wild dog desperate for fresh meat on a full moon. He wore the typical cobalt blue bulletproof vest and cargo pants that he saw the other soldiers on the ship wear, but the old man had a Dao blade strapped to his back.

_"Have Bueller take you down to the brig and interrogate him. I want to know everything," Raidon Makoto explained, basking in his ignorance. He had no idea what kind of rat had fallen into his trap. Or who the rat even was._

"I was sent here to interrogate you," the old man said. His gravelly voice was seasoned with experience. His very breath had the smell of gunpowder from battlefields past fought and yet to come.

"You would not be the first," Torvald… no I smiled. I beamed at him, a twinkle in my eye. He'd find the scars _aaaallll_ over my body. There's nothing he could do to me that hasn't already been done. Perhaps some of them were even done to myself.

"But I'm going to be the last," he walked around me slowly, methodically. He held his head high, as if he had already won. If only he was privy to the secrets I knew. His head would be hanging in shame so low, he'd have to walk with it. I briefly imagined this relic trying to walk on his head and snickered a bit. "You think that's funny?"

"You shouldn't walk funny then," I said and then remembered not everyone could read my thoughts.

He was silent for a moment and then belted me across the face. "I don't _need_ to interrogate you, though, because I already know everything I need to know. Landon, isn't it?"

"So, you and Mr. Harry Kim are in cahoots?" I asked. That's the only way he could have known. This entire _Angelwing_ job was a front to lure me out. I _knew_ it! And here I thought the New Order would be making its glorious mark on the downed dog that was Orre. "He sent you my complete dossier, eh? Impressive, I know."

"No, in fact, you couldn't be more wrong." Trying to make me question reality? Smooth moves for a skilled interrogator. I wouldn't expect anything less from an agent of Harry Kim's. "You are Landon from the "New Order." I've got news for you, buddy. Your little anarchist group isn't going to make too many more waves."

"Our New Order is like a Hydra! Cut off the head and we won't choke like Hoenn would! Two more will grow and take my place!" I declared. He might be serious about disposing me this time. No bother. There were others.

"Gotta break it to you, but Kaede is only in it for the money," he told me and started laughing. He punched me in the face again. _How can he know about her? I thought I kept her hidden. Kept her secret, kept her safe._ "There's nothing I need to know from you, so I really don't have to torture you. I'm just going to do it because it's fun, and more importantly, because I don't like you."

"Kaede?" I spat blood from my mouth, and maybe a tooth.

_My Kaede sat in her lab, adjusting the bolts on her latest monstrosity to an exact tightness. Her brown hair was slightly undone, but she brushed it from her face and behind her ear, tucked behind her glasses arm. The lab is hot and she thinks no one is watching. She's down to scant clothing under her lab coat._

"You tell Kim that he can't buy her! We have something more than that!" I tried to explain. I had to do my best to protect her. To keep her out of my fight with Kim.

The old man let out a deep, hearty laugh. He looked me straight in the eye as if he were going to rip out my throat with only his teeth. His eyes had lost some of their shimmer. They looked dull and muted, as if his soul had been covered in malice. He's seen dark days on the battlefield. I wouldn't be surprised if he's been deeper than hell.

"Oh? Really now? I have to tell you: you can't have what you only stare at from afar. Men like me get certain perks," the man tried to explain. He put his hand onto his crotch and thrusted forward. "Kaede was exquisite. Best I've ever had."

I felt a pain at the root of my heart, deeper than any blade could cut. _How could she? How could she do_ that_ with one of Their agents?_ I tried my best, but tears started to roll down my eyes. He punctured the dike and my finger just wasn't enough to stem the tide.

_"We're on a freaking boat. Let's do it," Raidon Makoto propositioned his photographer and sometimes lover._

"Hurts huh?" the old man cracked his knuckles. "I'm going to make it hurt more."

You are now me.

The geriatric punches you across the face, knocking out your other front tooth. You wince in pain. It wasn't clean; it chipped off at the root. The ferrous sting of blood starts to fill your mouth. Moving your arms as fast as you can only makes the chains laugh at you in concert with the man_w_hore knocking out your teeth. The lightbulb starts to sway back and forth. He stops laughing for a second and starts looking at your mouth.

"What's that in there?" he asked. He put his two fingers from his left hand straight into your mouth and down your throat. The only logical course of action is to bite down and spit his fingers back at him. You should feel satisfied by this tiny act of rebellion. He now has a reason to remember you forever. Who knew true immortality was only a few ligaments away?

"You're going to regret that, Landon," he grabs his Dao blade and puts it into your mouth. The only thing you can do is bite down on it and pray to Arceus that your remaining teeth are strong enough to hold the blade at bay.

_Arceus naps amongst the clouds, entirely unaware of the dangers that are to come._

You're confused. For some reason, you don't feel like biting down on the blade's edge anymore—like there has been a total eclipse of your will. Slowly, you open your mouth wide and the old man inserts his wrinkled fingers. He wraps them around a purple protrusion in the back of your mouth—a crystal shard only a few inches high but shining like the morning sun. He yanks at it for a moment like a child at a loose tooth. It pops out. You had never managed to get the Crystal too far up into your gums.

"What do you have here, you little maggot? Looks just like you've got a Crystal of Power," he looked it over for a moment. "The Crystal of Vision, I'd say."

Torvald was stunned. "That's my secret power! How can you know about it? Do They know I've been watching?" A thousand anxieties filled Torvald. _If They know, does Kaede?_

"You're a crazy sack of sh_i_t," he replied, punching Torvald in the gut with his good hand and walking out.

* * *

**Crystals of Power**  
_**Crystal of Vision**__ - Aqua PMC [Kanto]  
__**LOCKED**__ [Johto]  
__**LOCKED**__ [Hoenn]  
__**LOCKED**__ [Sevii Islands]  
__**Crystal of Energy**__ - Hoenn Council [Orre]  
__**LOCKED**__ [Fiore & Almia]  
__**LOCKED**__ [?] _


	7. Release & Recognition: Kent I

**Kent**

_"The PokeGod is our Ampharos, forever providing a guiding beacon to His flock of Mareep."_  
-Excerpt from _The Book of Ketsuban_

**Church of Ketsuban, Rustboro City  
Hoenn**

_An ornate church in the middle of the tech district of Rustboro. The church's medieval-gothic architecture stands out amongst the rows of modern houses built by the new money living in the tech district. Inside is a congregation of a modest size. The Church of Ketsuban is a growing religion. Its tendrils are beginning to extend to those with spare time and money who are wondering what the meaning to it all is. A man wearing a preacher's frock comes up to the lectern and lowers his hands, indicating it was time for the flock to sit down._

KENT: Children of Ketsuban, it is wonderful to see you on this fine summer morning. For those that I have not yet met, my name is Kent Tousaka. I'm one of the Ampharos of Ketsuban. Flaafy Juarez asked me to speak to his congregation today about our PokeGod.

FLOCK (in unison): PokeGod, I choose you. You teach me about the suffering that is life and I teach you our terrestrial ways so I may join you in paradise.

KENT: Yes! Many religions before us have put a lot of thought into what the nature of life was. The Buddhists claimed that all life was suffering and that the only way to end it was by severing one's attachments to the world. Ketsuban also recognizes that all of life is suffering, but, like no faith that ever was, He does not ask you to part with your livelihoods. Our PokeGod only wishes to help guide our livelihoods down the path of least suffering.

FLOCK (in unison): PokeGod, I choose you.

KENT: Our real test has been His decision to lead the Pokemon of Maridia to paradise before his human children. To train us is his cause. No matter how far you travel across the land, searching far and wide, you will not be able to find a town that doesn't lean on their Pokemon. Ketsuban has been disgusted by our treatment of our "friends." He thinks that modern society is too reliant on their labors. Our PokeGod wants us to understand the true meaning of friendship.

FLOCK (in unison): PokeGod, I choose you.

KENT: Most recently, He has deemed it necessary to transform the people of Kanto into half-Pokemon hybrids. Many have responded with fear and violence. However, we must listen to Ketsuban's chosen son, Harry Kim, and meet them with peace and understanding. These hybrids have a power that's inside, imbued by our PokeGod Ketsuban.

FLOCK (in unison): PokeGod, I choose you.

KENT: These powers that man has so corrosively desired have come at a high cost. Our PokeGod has deemed this cost necessary to remind us that our Pokemon can be our friends just as much as humans can.

FLOCK (in unison): PokeGod, I choose you.

KENT: It's important to remember that you chose Ketsuban. It wasn't just your destiny. Ketsuban is your only best friend in this world that we must defend. Only a heart so true can understand their higher calling and enforce our PokeGod's will.

FLOCK (in unison): PokeGod, I choose you.

KENT: Coming around now is a collection bowl. I implore you, please give what you can so that we can got Kanto and help those poor, lost souls understand Ketsuban's gift and lead them into his infinite light. Thank you.

_KENT TOUSAKA walks off of the stage. The congregation claps. Some wipe tears from their eyes. FATHER JUAREZ returns and leads a prayer for KENT'S protection on his dangerous journey to spread His word. KENT lights a cigarette in the backroom and takes a few puffs, spreading himself out on broken pew._

NAYUKI: Excellent show, Mr. Preacher.

KENT (worried): Nayuki?

NAYUKI (walks up to Kent, baby in tow): She's yours, you know.

KENT (lying): No she isn't!

NAYUKI (angrily): Flora needs a father! I don't understand how you can walk out on us for this Church of Ketsuban crap.

KENT (pleading): Just give some more time. Three years… When she's four, I promise, I'll return home. I have things to do within the Church first. It needs to be cleansed. I can't let you drag my down.

NAYUKI (furious): You're just kicking the can down the road! I can't raise her on my own. If you ever loved me, you'll do what's right. What would your Ketsuban think, huh? He'd probably send you straight to hell!

KENT (fleeing): I don't have time for this…

_Curtain falls._


	8. Beyond Enemy Lines: Harry II

_Chapter 2: Beyond Enemy Lines_

**Harry**

_"To President Kim:_

Mission Complete.

-BK"

-Letter recently received by Harris Kim

**Harris Kim's Condominium, Evergrande City  
Hoenn**

Pragmatism and idealism were two concepts that often made for an unhappy marriage inside of Kim. On one hand, he was an idealist at heart. He believed in the innate goodness of humanity and their unwavering human rights. He fell in love with the idea the moment he picked up John Locke's _Second Treatise_ in high school. Since then, he had learned everything he could about morals, ethics, and civic systems. Originally, Kim's goal was to recreate El-Dorado from Voltaire's _Candide_—an impossibly perfect city.

Then the Sevii Conflict happened. He was captured by the Seviis (he refused to even _think_ the popular slur "Seviick") and put into Camp Alpha, a POW camp on Birth Island. He often thought that calling it a "camp" was too generous. Camp Alpha had one man made river bisecting the island. It was both the sole source of drinking water and the only latrine on the small island. Needless to say, it wasn't the daily torture that killed you. It was the dysentery. Kim spent three years in that camp. _Well, mostly._

Relying on the true, the good, and the beautiful to win the day was no longer a viable option. It was in that span of time that he saw the necessity of pragmatic decision making and politics. No matter where he went—the military, the camp, Evergrande—they all had their own unique politics. It was a game that needed to be played if he wanted to get anything done. To Kim, politics was the pursuit of power. He decided that he would be the People's Tribune within the realm of politics and acquire power for those that could not. That didn't mean he needed to do away with the precious ideals that guided him. On the contrary; his idealistic core is what gave him the motivation to press on into mankind's darkest playground.

That didn't mean that there weren't good men playing the game out there. They were just far and few between. Nathaniel Winterfield (the elder) was an example of one of these "good men." For the most part, the two of them saw eye to eye on politics and they tried as hard as they could to support each other in the best way they could. Loyalty was everything to the elder statesman. His loyalty to justice was manifested in his loyalty to Kim.

There were others that believed in the right thing, but just needed his guidance to hit the mark. Bron Krad was one of those people, which is why Kim kept him close. While he often was overzealous with his promotion of the Dark Angels, he ultimately understood who he really served and what Harry Kim stood for. Isaiah Carnegie, Hoenn's mysterious financial wizard, was another. Kim suspected he had his own agenda, but he had a consistent record of walking the walk (which was more than he could say about a lot of his other colleagues).

Others needed to be outright prodded. Myron Asch, for example, was absolutely brilliant at his profession and had a keen sense for public health, but he was very guilty of putting her personal loyalties above his professional. When the conflict occurred (which was rare), Kim needed to make sure he could still achieve his own ends whilst still ensuring Asch believed his backyard was safe.

Finally, there were those that played the game purely for the sake of themselves.

There was a knock at his door. Kim opened the door to meet Secretary Krad standing in his hallway with a case of beer. "Let's talk." Kim let him inside and flipped the lights in the living room on. Krad spread himself out on Kim's couch, while Kim sat in the armchair. They both cracked open a beer. "I think you have a problem in Parliament."

"Oh?" Kim's left eyebrow rose. He took a long swig of the Oldale Stout that Krad had given him. It was a little strong for his taste, but he still enjoyed it.

"Your good friend General Vehlstein is getting the warhawks into a frenzy," Krad said. "A former Dark Angel, now poltician, just let me know that he's lobbying several key politicians in secret to force a vote for war on Orre."

Kim cursed. "That's a problem. Thanks for letting me know."

Krad waited for a moment. "…wait. That's it?"

"What do you mean?" Kim replied.

"You're not going to come up with some brilliant plan to stop him in his tracks. I thought you were Harry Kim, the puppetmaster of Evergrande, the defender of peace, the People's Tribune?" Krad tried to articulate his shock to Kim's nonchalant attitude towards the revelation.

"Oh, don't worry Bron. I still am," Kim said, pointing to his head. "Fear shouldn't force us into revealing our hand too early. Think about it: do we know because he wants us to know? Perhaps he wants me to panic and make a hasty decision to further his cause. Or, on the other hand, is he unaware of your man in Parliament? In which case, how much more info could we get out of him before we go and make it obvious that we're listening and he's the reason why. I just don't know enough to do anything right now."

Kim thought about his next words carefully. He decided he trusted Krad enough to let him know a little more, "Vehlstein deliberately waited for Neo to leave to do this."

"How do you figure?"

"It's no secret that Neo holds me in very high regard," Kim took another swig. "Vehlstein is directly contradicting my desire to _not_ go to war, and he's well aware of it. Why else would he do this behind closed doors as opposed to in the open? Neo would raise _hell_ if he knew what Vehlstein was doing."

"That wouldn't matter. General Vehlstein is his commanding officer. As you're aware, they don't take disobedience lightly in the Hoenn military," Krad reasoned.

"Ah, but Neo's _very_ good at following orders. Depending on the situation, too good," he explained. Krad looked confused. "Basically, he's a smart_a_ss." Krad nodded and the two of them shared a brief pause in the conversation. Both realized that the business was concluded. Would this ease into a social occasion or was Krad an unwelcome guest? Kim decided he was done with work for tonight and opened a second beer, tacitly informing Krad that he was in it for the long haul.

"So what's new? There's more than just work out there," Kim asked.

"Says the busybody," Krad countered. Kim chortled at the conversational parry. "Not much. The wife and kids are doing well. Addie's gotten accepted to Slateport University for anthropology. I'm hoping to be able to get her an internship with the Morgan Company."

"Ah the Morgan Company… Say, what's your take on the Nasmar, Bron?" Kim pried. "It seems like it's one of the world's greatest mysteries. _Who really knows where they came from?_"

"What's there to "take"? They just happened," Krad explained. Kim looked at Krad expectantly. "What? You think I'm some god damn conspiracy theorist or something? I thought Morgan and friends concluded that landbridges are how they got everywhere."

"That's just idle speculation," Kim told him. "Honestly, I find people's takes on this more compelling than their take on Creation. Mew, Arceus, Ketsuban… It's not a thing you can politely discuss. The Nasmar, on the other hand, are completely open season."

"Ever the politician, aren't we?" Krad remarked. "Tell me, Harry… what is it that drives you?"

"Bron, my friend, have you ever read _Candide?_"

**Capitol Building, Evergrande City  
Hoenn**

The next day at work, Kim bumped elbows with General Vehlstein as he was leaving Orson Barkley's office. "President Kim! What a pleasure to see you."

"The same could be said about you, General," Kim said. "What brings you to the Capitol?"

"Oh, Barkley and I were just discussing next year's defense budget," Vehlstein tried to explain.

"Yes, that. I believe Secretary Krad is drafting that right now. If you have concerns, you really should bring them to him. As you know, the budget is stalled until we finish the Morgan Reactor. How much additional revenue that brings into the state will determine where a lot of expenditures are going," Kim explained. He then added with a slight smirk, "Who knows? _Peace might just break out._"

Vehlstein faked a smile in response. Kim could see it in his eyes. He now knew that Krad's mole was indeed a legitimate mole.


	9. Beyond Enemy Lines: Mike I

**Mike**

_"As we have done business together in the past, I think it wise to inform you that Kim is planning a raid on your company. Please plan accordingly and keep this in mind during election season."_  
-Communique between Orson Barkley and DyneTech Enterprises

**Barracks, Evergrande City  
Hoenn**

"We just can't allow this," General Vehlstein told Anone from across the desk. Vehlstein's office was well decorated, covered in pictures of him meeting famous people from all over Maridia, awards and trophies from his decades of experience, decorative weapons, and military books strewn all over. Anone's library was dwarfed by Vehlstein's. Stepping into Vehlstein's office made him feel like he should read more. "No country can just fire a god damn biological missile into the heart of another country and get away with no consequences! We all agreed when we signed the Poketopia Convention fifty-three years ago that biological weapons will not be tolerated! If we don't enforce the Convention, what incentive is there to follow it?"

"That makes sense," Anone said. He had no strong opinion one way or the other in regards to war with Orre. On one hand, it would be an opportunity for him to show Vehlstein and Kim his chops in the field and maybe wrest the position of General out of Winterfield's hands. On the other, a lot of good men would die for Anone's rather selfish desire. For now, Anone didn't want to rock the boat with his boss.

"I've been speaking to several key politicians and they agree with me that we can't let Orre do this," Vehlstein explained. "I think there's significant support in the Congress to even go over President Kim's head on this issue. What a joke. The president isn't man enough to do the right thing."

Anone thought back to how much Winterfield idolized Harry Kim. He would talk about the president at every opportunity, asking questions like "What would President Kim do in this situation?" or saying "The president wouldn't agree with that." Winterfield told Mike that the two of them had really connected after the war and that he was sure Kim was the greatest living man. "Is there opposition?"

"Barkley, of course," Vehlstein said. "It's surprising. Him and Kim don't see eye-to-eye on anything, yet for some reason, Barkley refuses to budge on war. He think we should recognize DyneTech and "work with them for peace" or something like that." Vehlstein rolled his eyes and poured himself a very strong glass of bourbon. "Makes me sick. You want any?"

After having had a bad experience with bourbon, Anone shook his head no.

"Your loss," Vehlstein took a giant gulp, holding back a shudder and a wretch. "I've got a meeting with Krad later today. I'm hoping to sell this to him. Make him think it was his idea. I'll be sure to pay special attention to his Dark Angels. He approved Winterfield's strike team on DyneTech, it shouldn't be too hard to get him to agree to a full-blown war."

"Wouldn't the Sevii Islands get dragged into the conflict? And Fiore too?" Anone asked.

"That is a risk yes," Vehlstein acknowledged. "But the threat of opposition should not stop us from doing the _right_ thing. They signed the treaty too. They'd be breaking the treaty by going to war with us over an Orre conflict."

Anone's phone began to buzz. It was an e-mail from the President himself, Harry Kim, asking for a meeting between the two of them today. It was quite an honor; normally, those personal meetings were reserved for Neo Winterfield. He was interested in seeing what Kim had to say to him. "Get this, Kim wants to meet with me."

"His golden boy is out of town. Bet he needs you to fill that hole," Vehlstein said derisively. It was at that moment that Anone realized: _The General is kind of a d_i_ck._ Grabbing his coat from Vehlstein's rack, he made a quick exit and made his way to the Evergrande subway. It was a quick way to get from the Barracks to the Capitol and vice-versa.

-

**Capitol, Evergrande City  
Hoenn**

Anone knocked at Harry Kim's already open door. Kim looked up from the papers he was reading, "You wanted to see me sir?"

Kim stood straight up and cleared the clutter off of his desk. "Lieutenant General Mike Anone, it is excellent to see you today. Feel free to get the door." Anone did as he was told and shut the door on his way to shake the President's hand. He sat down in the chair in front of Kim's desk and folded his legs, interlocking his fingers over his knee. The pleat in his pressed formal tans tented his shins.

"Secretary Krad and I were drafting next year's defense funding bill and I was wondering if you had any opinion to lend," Kim explained to Mike. Mike's eyes traced every shelf on Kim's office, but the only decoration was books. No pictures of family, no medals, no office toys. The only thing that lined his shelves was books.

"No, sir. I would recommend that you speak with General Vehlstein for a more expert opinion on that," Mike deflected. He figured the best thing he could do in this situation was to pass the buck up to Vehlstein. If he made any false moves or seemed to be getting cozy with Kim, Vehlstein would respect him just as much as he respected Winterfield.

"Oh, come on, Mike-" Kim began.

"Mr. President, I have a rank that I fought very hard to obtain in the Sevii Conflict," Anone corrected.

"Right, Lieutenant Anone." Kim unbuttoned the top button on his shirt and loosened his tie. His shirt was already rolled up to the elbows. Anone couldn't figure out what Kim's game was. Was he trying to curry favor from him to get around Vehlstein? _No, that can't be it. Kim has no idea that Vehlstein wants to take the country to war._ "I was certainly not trying to question your experience in the Sevii Conflict. God knows we both saw hell out there."

"Hell, huh?" Anone asked. He was interested in this conversation now. _Harry and Neo haven't seen half of the sh_i_t I've seen out there. I've had men… no boys, die in my arms with three of their four appendages blown off. I bet he's never had a kid shit in his arms crying for his mother._ "The Arceans… and the Ketsubians… and the Helixians have been looking for hell for so long. And really, it was just sitting there on Birth Island, waiting to just be discovered, huh?" _I've killed more men than I'm comfortable even thinking about. I've had more friends die than he has campaign financiers. Why is it that he gets to sit his smug green ass down in the President's chair and Neo Winterfield gets_ my_ promotion? Because they're young and pretty? Because the media caught them at the right time?_

"I'm beginning to think you're forgetting the rank you fought so hard to earn, _Lieutenant_," Kim observed off-handedly. He popped open the top of a Maridian globe and fixed himself a drink. Anone noticed that it was a _very_ stiff one. He got up and walked around Kim's office, examining the spines of the books. There was a wide range of non-fiction, as to be expected of any public servant, but what surprised Anone more was that a majority of the books were fiction.

"You know, Mr. President, I tend to judge people based on the books they keep in their office," Anone explained. "It's a little thing I've picked up during peacetime. Books in one's office are there for of one of three purposes. The first is that they're necessary to their job. I can tell that this section here closest to your desk with Aristotle and John Locke are "work books."" Anone pointed at the shelf near his desk. "The second is books that people value. Like that book you have display on top of the shelf there… _Candide_ by the looks of it." Anone grabbed the book bound in leather and gold leaf and thumbed through it. It was an ancient tome, likely from the same century Voltaire put the satirical piece to paper. Kim initially looked uncomfortable with Anone fondling the text but eased up after he saw the care he took with it. "And the third purpose is to impress people. And by god, you have none of those."

Kim pointed at his skull. "The books you see in here are all up here. I tend to let the books do the talking, not their spines."

"You're a very idealistic man, Mr. President," Anone began gently. He threw the copy of _Candide_ to the ground and bellowed, "how the hell are you supposed to save lives with only ideals?"

Kim sat back in his chair and sighed, "Vehlstein is angling to go to war, isn't he?" He looked at Anone through steepled fingers, a crescent-shaped frown plastered to his face.

"Damn straight he is and god bless him for it!"

"Tell me, _Mike_," Kim began, shooting up from his desk and putting his arms behind his back. Anone attempted to correct the president, but Kim interrupted him, "What's wrong with my _idealism_, as you call it?"

"You're a god_d_amn fool who thinks that our problems are just going to go away if we braid each other's f_u_cking hair, pick flowers, and sign kum-bah-ya! There are f_u_cking _monsters_ out there in Kanto and the madmen that created them is still at large!" Anone boomed. Kim saw slivers of shadows dancing under the crack of his closed door. People were listening.

Kim looked at Anone disappointed, chortling in disbelief "You really think **I** let the mad**man** that created them get away, do you?" He then shook his head and made several "tut-tut" clicking noises with his tongue. "Regardless, you're one of those people that thinks idealism produces no results, huh? The "realist" that's actually just a cynic with different spots? My friend…"

"I'm not your god_a_mn friend!"

"You will be soon enough, just let me finish," Kim shot back. He turned around and looked out the window to see the beautiful East Hoenn Sea. He had read that it had once been common to see water Pokemon playing on the beach, but now the perfect vista was a desolate as the other planets that shared the Corona Solar System with Maridia. "Like I was saying, _my friend_, idealism is just as capable of action as your cynical realism, we just have a goal in mind other than just a desultory survival. It's hard idea to grasp, eh? We actually strive to make the world a better place!

"Or are you one of those people that thinks that because humans are "naturally" corrupt, we'll never accomplish anything? I've seen the worst that humanity, no, this entire universe has to offer. I've been _deeper than hell_, Mike, and yet, I'm still an idealist. In fact, I remain an idealist in spite of the horrible things I've seen. Regardless of whichever camp you lie in, though, the only thing standing between you and a better world is yourself. Be the god_a_mn change you want to see, Mike. Cynicism does neither yourself nor the world any favors."

Anone was trapped. He really didn't have any reply. He had let his emotions get the better of him and talked himself into a hole. "But you're just _one man_! There's no way that you can accomplish that, even if you are able to meet the high standards you set for yourself."

"I'm not just one man, Mike. I'm the most powerful man in the world, dammit! Now start acting like you work for him!" Kim reached the height of his crescendo and then sat back down in his chair. Anone was speechless for only a few seconds, but the tension that saturated the air caused it to seem like forever.

"…You're right."


	10. Beyond Enemy Lines: Landon II

**Landon**

_"He called it the "Crystal of Vision." It looks just like the Crystal that the Morgan Company had dug up a few months ago. Give it a try, maybe it has powers too?"_  
-Reg Lando to Raidon Makoto, immediately following Landon Torvald's interrogation

**_AMS Deathwing_  
En Route to Fiore**

The old man shut the door behind him, but his sickly sweet, almost sterile smell lingered in the chamber. It made Torvald sick to his stomach. The smell continued to fill the room, getting stronger every minute. He felt like he had retreated back into his mother's womb to rest. Torvald's eyes became heavy and sting. He blinked his eyes and felt tears come out. They dripped to the metal floor. _Those aren't tears! That's my blood! Did the old man really hit me that hard?_ The bloodflow got heavier by the moment. His skin started to scrunch up, almost like the scruff of a cat. His hands, each of which had a meathook stabbed through the palm, began to _burn_ at the wounds. The metal that was inserted within his stigmata began to feel like a strong acid, corroding his innards.

Needless to say, these physical sensations were accompanied by screaming. "KAEDE!" Torvald yelled out, trying to clear the blood from his eyes with only his eyelids. "KAEDE, HELP ME!" He struggled, trying to free himself of his bounds when his nose fell off. He stared at his former facial feature for a moment in disbelief and then continued to struggle. Next were his ragged and unkempt fingernails, which fell in a razor rain across his skin. As the nails fail, they cut the ill-fitting skin, releasing more blood. He then felt his toenails fall off within his boots.

Torvald starting rocking his head side to side like a baby to a rattle. He was hoping to gain _some_ leverage to get out of the chains, but to no avail. He continued to hang by his hands on the lone meathooks holding him. And then…

Your d_i_ck fell off.

You feel it filling you pants. Where your sex once was is no longer there. Emasculated, you stop protesting. You decide to hang like a limp fish, embracing the soon-to-arrive grim reaper. Whatever the old man did to you, he truly wanted you to die in agony. You try one, last time to move your hand…

Torvald felt the meathook go straight through his hand. _SUCCESS!_ Hanging by only one hand now, he brought the hand up to his face to assess the damage when he realized that he no longer had a hand. He looked down to try and find what was once his hand but only saw a pink goop surrounding him. The meathook then slid through the other hand as he hit the ground with a loud _THUD_. Torvald tried to pick himself back up, but the unexpected fall broke his left leg at the shin. The protruding bone oozed a pink pus as the bone itself started to turn into the same pink solution.

Finally, all of Torvald had become a pile of pink goop, laying in the center of the room. The blob absorbed his nose, his fingernails, and even the old man's two fingers. For a moment, Torvald thought that he had finally died and was now paying Hell a visit. When he saw that he was still in the same room, he realized that he was in fact still alive.

He tried to move, and slowly, inched his way over to the door. There was no way he could open it. He saw a nearby drain in the floor and approached it, allowing himself to be absorbed through the grating. He was surprised—it didn't hurt at all. In fact, nothing really even hurt anymore. Nothing physical, at least. The pain of Kaede's betrayal was still a fresh wound on his consciousness.

Gravity propelled Torvald through the _Deathwing_'s waterworks and out the side of the ship and into the ocean. Feeling the cool, stinging sensation of Fiore's saltwarer, Torvald wished he was a fish. _I'd even settle for being a Magikarp right now._ He tried breathing, but was unable to within the water. He focused on swimming upwards but was still sinking.

That was, until he took a breath.

He then started swimming upwards. A little slow at first, but once he got the hang of moving his fins, he hit the surface of the water. The _Deathwing_ was in the distance, sailing towards Fall City's pier. He'd be back for revenge on Raidon Makoto's pride and joy. They wouldn't keep his Crystal for long.

As he basked in the sunlight, he realized what had happened. He had transformed himself into a Magikarp! He tried swimming towards Kanto… towards Kaede… finding that he instinctively knew which way it was. After fifteen minutes and only a few hundred feet, he determined that he needed to go _faster_. He began to picture a big, beautiful Milotic, as his body began to contort itself into its shape. It was a small Milotic, sure, but the increase in maneuverability and speed was marked.

_Kaede, I'm headed home._

-

**New Order Headquarters,  
Fuschia City, Kanto**

"What took you so long?" was the first thing out of Kaede Kuyokisaka's mouth after seeing Torvald again. He had managed to reassume his human form after some serious effort and a couple of failed attempts. Once he had figured out how to control the shape of certain parts of his body, he gave his muscle more definition. A subtle change, but he hoped that Kaede would notice. Kaede, on the other hand, was covered in black fur and had two elongated ears sticking directly out of her head. "Everything that happened was absolutely awful. I was afraid you were caught up in everything going on."

"I think a better question is what happened to _you_?" Torvald asked. Kaede quickly brought Torvald up to speed on the PHT missile affair.

"What I want to know is how you're still human? Its fumes have wafted all the way over to Fuschia already. As you can see, I'm an Umbreon hybrid now," she pondered.

Torvald let his mental concentration go as his entire body liquefied and turned into a puddle of pink slop. "I think I have it too."

"So you're a Ditto hybrid?"

"I was captured by a bunch of thugs called Aqua PMC. They prevented me from finishing my mission in Orre. I think they're in cahoots with Harry Kim," Torvald said, retaking his human form.

Kaede rolled her eyes and started walking back to her lab, "Everyone's in cahoots with Harry Kim."

"You don't believe me? It makes sense! Everything leads back to him! He's trying to create a One World Order, I'm telling you. You've seen _all_ of the evidence—how can you be so blind?" Torvald exclaimed. He just _couldn't_ understand why no one else saw the world with the same eyes he did. Everything just clicked in his head. Why didn't it do the same for anyone else? It explained why he had so much trouble recruiting into the New Order. There were others like him, just far and few between. Most were refugees from their country. Once they were freedom fighters and revolutionaries, but after being defeated, they needed to retreat and regroup. The New Order took them in.

Torvald was the de facto leader of the organization, if only because he was the only one with a consistent vision. _Making anyone do anything to help me achieve my vision was an entirely different task,_ Torvald thought, commenting on the narration.

"Regardless, I think it's time I learned more about Kim himself. As a Ditto hybrid, I can now perfectly emulate any form. Infiltrating his inner circle will be easy. All I'll need to do is find his weakness and bring him down. Hoenn's lynchpin gone, our dream of anarchy will soon come to fruition!" Torvald exposited. Kaede was already walking away.

"Mhm. Anarchy. Sure," Kaede mumbled.

_Tell that to your sugar daddy in Aqua,_ Torvald wanted to reply, but couldn't muster the courage.


	11. Beyond Enemy Lines: Finch III

**Finch**

_"I can't imagine my life being worth much to you."  
"One man's finch is another man's eagle."  
"I'm hardly an eagle."  
"That doesn't mean you can't fight them."_  
-Leigh Reynolds and Raidon Makoto coining Reynold's nickname, shortly after being freed from Mauville Penitentiary fifteen years ago

**_AMS Deathwing_  
Fall City, Fiore**

_"…and with increasing tensions between Hoenn and Orre, it would be most wise for you to renew your contract with Aqua PMC at this critical juncture in world history. Do you really want to be known as the President caught with his pants down if Fiore gets invaded by Hoenn?" Raidon Makoto explained to Darman Fulier, the President of Fiore. Since the Almia Crisis at the beginning of Harry Kim's term, Fiore has kept Aqua PMC in its employ. Officially, the country was allied with Orre, though, without an actual government, those political ties were shaky at best._

_Fulier sat at his desk, his thumb and forefinger stroking the rather impressive goatee he had grown. Darman Fulier was a seasoned politician who knew how to play the game in Fall City. The Almia Crisis had also offered him a crash course in Foreign Policy, rounding him out as one of the more astute world leaders. The fact of the matter was that, despite Fiore's booming economy and vast wealth of natural resources, it was pitifully small country. Very, very few Fiorians signed up for the Fiore Special Self Defense Force. Most worked in Fiore's natural resource businesses or join the Rangers – an international conservation non-profit headquartered in Fiore. It was the Rangers strong ties to Almia and Oblivia that had roped Fiore into the Almia Crisis._

_"Admiral Makoto… You're a seasoned veteran. Your boots have been on the ground in the Sevii Islands, Almia, and a litany of other conflicts here and there since the inception of your Private Military Company. What is your assessment of the world today? Will Hoenn go to war?" Fulier asked. He leaned back in his plush red office chair. All eyes in the room—important Senators, dignitaries, ministry officials, and even delegates from the Rangers—fell on Makoto._

_"It's hard to say. If we were dealing with any other man than Harry Kim, Hoenn would definitely already be at war. Kim is a strange figure in international politics—he's quite the idealist. We briefly fought back to back during the Sevii Island Conflict after he had escaped the prison camp and he absolutely refused to let any of his men die. The man has seen the ugly face of war and has sacrificed his life for peace (which would put me out of business)," Makoto explained. "He's young and doesn't know how things work in his capital… unlike yourself President Fulier. My sources say that there's significant pressure from within to go to war, but he remains stalwart. It could honestly go either way._

_"Now I'll tell you who you do need to watch out for. Just on the way here, there was a bombing attempt on our new headquarters by an anarchist cell called The New Order. We were lucky to catch it in progress and stopped it, but according to my man that made him squeal, they're everywhere. And of course, there's the Ketsubians, a cult that's becoming ever more dangerous by the day. I've seen reports that they're starting to arm some of their members to make some sort of paramilitary parish."_

_The politicians filling the room immediately broke the silence and frantically spoke amongst themselves. Fulier stood up and the room instantly quieted down. The man had serious presence. "The world is going to hell, as you've very candidly told us. If it's not a major conflict to worry about, it's an enemy within. Mr. Makoto, consider your contract extended. Aqua PMC once again stands proud as the official military of Fiore for the next five years."_

_Uproarious applause._

Reynolds put down the Crystal of Vision. He was unable to hold his concentration through the Crystal any longer. The Crystal had the odd effect of warding away the constant headaches that came with being part Golduck, but was so mentally straining that it almost wasn't worth it.

Makoto was at the Fall City Diet, renegotiating Aqua PMC's contract with their primary client, the country of Fiore. He had instructed Reynolds to watch the meeting so he could see him "work his magic." _If there's anything Raidon can do right, it's deliver._

Tyrus Hale had brought a team of cleaning specialists from Fall City to clean the _Deathwing_ spotless, removing any trace of PHT Virus that had ever been there. Several other Aquas had been deployed to buff out the dent in the side of the ship that the PHT missile had made, while the rest were focused on moving in. Hale was getting cozy in his new and expansive lab below the deck of the _Deathwing_.

"New toys don't change how god damn overworked I am," Hale said, flying into a rage as he was moving a robotic arm into place. "I raise the average education level in every single room I walk in by several _years_, and Raidon can't even do the courtesy of hiring me a lab assistant? I'm supposed to work this entire lab myself?"

"Ty, do remember there's a bottom line," Reynolds meekly tried to defend Makoto. He perfectly understood Hale's claims, but there was nothing he could do about it. After Reynolds had signed his life away to Makoto, he and Hale became fast friends. More than anything, their friendship offered a safe space to blow off steam about Raidon Makoto's eccentricities.

"Every week, its 'smith me some new swords, Tiantus.' 'Need a new gun, Tiantus.' 'How's ZEPHYR going, Tiantus?'" he ranted, connecting several wires. Using a mouse he started to test the robotic arm out, moving a crate from one end of the room to another. The crate was marked "ZEPHYR." "Does he think I'm some kind of robot or something? I sleep less now than I did when I was writing my thesis."

"How _is_ Project ZEPHYR coming, Ty?" Reynolds asked, a smug smile plastered on his face.

"Go f_u_ck yourself, that's how," the engineer shot back. Hale accentuated by flipping Reynolds the bird. In his show of faux-rage, he had let go of the mouse controlling the robotic arm. The crate fell to the ground and broke open, revealing a mess of circuitboards, servos, and schematics.

"Changing subjects entirely, have you seen that Reg Lando guy skulking around?" Reynolds asked Hale. Hale looked up from his research notes, assessing what it was that was actually _in_ the broken crate, for a brief second.

"Lando?" he clarified. Reynolds nodded. "He found me actually. Called me up using my number for Tiantus Industrial and asked for a job in Aqua. It's kind of funny—he keeps calling me Tiantus too, as if anyone _but_ Raidon called me that. Calls you Finch, come to think of it."

The vent session stopped when Raidon Makoto walked into the room. Hale's face immediately lit up. Despite all of his whining, Makoto and Hale went too far back for something petty as overwork to strain their friendship. It was actually Makoto that put Hale through school using profits from Aqua PMC up until he received graduate funding. He often referred to Hale's Bachelor of the Sciences degree as a "tax write off." Hale's work with Aqua has also received international acclaim from military industrial complex companies. There was a line outside the door to buy from Tiantus Industrial.

"Nice speech. The Crystal worked exactly as Lando had said," Reynolds told Raidon. He mock bowed and sat his _a_ss down on Hale's work table. The katana sheaths hanging at his side clanged against the metal table.

"So, there's an iced bottle of expensive champagne on the airstrip of the _Deathwing_. I'm thinking the three of us go celebrate the new contract," Makoto explained. He lead the three of them up to the top of the _Deathwing_. Night had fallen and Fall City's light pollution laws gave the soldiers for hire a prime cut of night sky. The commander popped the cork on the champagne bottle, launching it into the sea. "Gentleman, that was the first salvo fired by the _AMS Deathwing_. Let there be many more in the future."

The three toasted their champagne glasses and sprawled themselves out onto the tarmac, watching the nightsky glisten and gleam. Multiple shooting stars had fallen as they silently appreciate nature's beauty.

"That star over there is the Daniels," Makoto pointed out. Makoto had a rather varied and passionate interest-set. He liked to describe himself as a "Renaissance Man." Reynolds was reasonably sure that, despite the surface worldliness, Makoto was just as empty as everyone else. "And over there is the Equis, the binary star system."

"Which one is that?" Reynolds asked, pointing towards the west.

"That's not a star… It's a planet. Judging by this time of year, that'd be Ramdyne," Makoto explained. Ramdyne was Maridia's neighbor planet closest to the sun. "And over there is Kazmar." Kazmar was Maridia's other neighbor, further away from the sun.

"You know, ever since I was a kid, I wanted to go to another planet," Hale said. "It's why I got into engineering. I wanted to build the rocket that would take me there."

"Tiantus, I promise you: before we're through, you'll see Ramdyne and Kazmar… Hell, I'll make sure you get to see the entire of the Corona system!"


	12. Beyond Enemy Lines: Neo II

**Neo**

_"Mr. Winterfield? I've been told by the Veterans' Affairs Office that you commanded my brother at Alto Mare. I'd like you to tell me how he died."_  
-Kate Masters to Neo Winterfield at their first encounter

**Abandoned Tavern, Pyrite Town  
Orre**

Since Orre's attack on the _Deathwing_, the cloud of PHT virus that poisoned Gateon Bay spread its way back up into the mainland. 80% of Orre's population became Pokemon hybrids within only a few days. The remaining bastion of mankind within the country hid themselves in the upper regions of Mt. Battle, praying to Arceus and Ketsuban that the virus would dissipate. Winterfield was done with praying. He knew that the only way to see things through to fruition was with _action_, and if he had been Arceus' holy instrument for change all along, then that was just icing on the cake.

Liberty's Crusade had holed themselves up in an abandoned tavern at the north end of Pyrite, making preparations for an assault at Realgem Tower. Before their plane air dropped them a mile off of the coast of Gateon Port, they had torn off their patches indicating they were from the Hoenn military and tossed them into the ocean. They were unmarked soldiers now on the most important of secret missions.

Shairii Woldrac retrieved a topographical map of Orre from her backpack and spread it across a table, the four corners held down by knives. She had drawn on it a route through a mountainous path guaranteed to provide them cover from Pyrite to the outskirts of Realgem. The plan was to wait for nightfall and haul _a_ss through the mountains to reach Realgem by morning. From there, they'd set up camp, wait for nightfall once again, and then storm the Tower.

"Our major problem in getting through Pyrite Town is the Blades gang," Woldrac reported to the Crusade. As they had discovered when they had arrived, it only took a few short days of crisis for the organized crime within the area to remove the local government from power. The mayor's head hung from a pike outside the city. Running through Pyrite corridors at night with weapons was akin to screaming "come kill me!"

"Can't we just use stealth tactics?" Dagny Cage asked Woldrac. Winterfield pictured the lot of them traipsing through Pyrite inside of cardboard boxes. "As long as we're not seen, we're good."

"That's not going to work. These savages have basically declared martial law here. They have snipers on rooftops during the _daytime_. I shudder to think what kind of material they're going to use at night—when people try stupid _sh_i_t_," Patrick Costello chimed in. "Likewise, we can't just Rambo our way out. DyneTech has big ears. They'll know all about a paramilitary strike force in the country by the morning It won't take them more than two guesses to figure out who sent us."

"We'll need to split up. Shairii, Dagny, and Wardman go with me. Anderson, Powers, and Rubin go with Costello," Winterfield commanded. "My team will take this route here, while Costello will follow this one." The Crusade all looked at Winterfield and immediately nodded with nary a contradictory glance. General Vehlstein had previously told Winterfield that he had the same extraordinary charisma that Harry Kim possessed. Winterfield hoped that this mission would also remind Vehlstein of his prowess in the battlefield as well as in Evergrande.

He was very much feeling the absence of Mike Anone. The two had made a last stand at Navel Rock, fighting back to back and tooth and nail. The two soldiers had managed to repel a group of at least thirty Seviicks from taking the ground they had captured until Patrick Costello's battalion arrived as reinforcements in the morning. Anone and Winterfield built his platoon up from scratch after that battle and were sent straight to Alto Mare to retake the island.

The Crusade began suiting up for the mission. Winterfield reapplied his body armor and checked his rebreather to ensure that it was still working at optimum efficiency. The rebreather was the only thing preventing him and the rest of his soldiers from turning into hybrids on the spot. He pulled a picture of his fiancé from his pocket and stared at it for a couple of seconds, imagining the family that the two planned on building together. He had promised her a house with a white picket fence, a car in the driveway, and two-point-five children. Masters called this a "normal life." Winterfield, however, called it "statistically average." He put it back into his back pocket and loaded his FN P90 submachine gun.

Once he saw that the others were ready. "Liberty's Crusade, roll out!" Winterfield ordered.

The two teams assembled and split straight out of the door. The all-enveloping darkness hid their matte black combat uniforms well, but street lights and other forms of light pollution made it impossible to achieve a 100% camouflage ratio.

The four man squad pressed themselves up against a brick wall when they saw a sniper standing on the roof of a building opposite of them. His large, slow strides and lack of focus in one direction or another told Winterfield that the man was extremely bored. Winterfield looked over at Wardman, who had his silenced sniper rifle trained on the enemy sniper. He nodded at Wardman, giving him permission to take the shot. When the enemy sniper looked the other way, Warman depressed the trigger once. The enemy's head exploded like a firecracker on independence day.

The body fell off of the building and slammed into the ground. The lifeless sack of meat made a rather loud _THUD_ sound.

"How long do you think we have until they notice?" Cage asked.

"Provided there are no bystanders, I'd give it ten minutes," Woldrac replied. The group hustled out of the alley and across the street. They only had two more street blocks to go before they hit the city limits and met up with Costello.

Winterfield heard a shot graze past his ear. "I saw something!" Someone yelled. _F_U_CK!_ he thought. The squad pointed their guns at where the shot came from, hoping to get a clearer image of the enemy that shot them. Several more shots came. One of them tagged Wardman in the trigger arm. A gaggle of Blades came from the alley behind the squad, weapons trained on Winterfield and friends.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" the apparent leader of the group said, brandishing his AK-47. "We don't take kindly to foreigners here."

Winterfield had enough of his sh_i_t and shot him in the face.

The group, bewildered by the instant death of their leader, came at Winterfield's squad. Woldrac knocked over a dumpster, sending bags to trash at them like an avalanche. The four soldiers took refuge behind the dumpster. Wardman pointed towards several buildings, identifying other snipers on roofs. "If we leave the alley, they'll all have perfect shots." Cage hammered suppressing fire into the gang members that were still drying to unbury themselves from the mountain of trash Woldrac had buried them under.

Winterfield kicked over several trash cans and held up their lids. "We use these to protect ourselves from the snipers. Bullets are still going to go through them like a hot knife through butter, but it'll at least obscure where our heads are." The four of them each grabbed a lid and ran out into the street, straight for the next alley to take refuge in. Shots rang out. One flew through Woldrac's lid, barely grazing her face. Another shot Wardman in the hip. Dagny Cage was incredibly unlucky—she was tagged in the head. Her lifeless body fell to the ground.

Winterfield was the most unlucky of them all. The shot hit his rebreather. A sterile taste filled his mouth and his eyes began to water with blood. "NO!"


	13. Beyond Enemy Lines: Harry III

**Harry**

_"James Recognized My Killjoy Octillery's Crazy Cool Lagoon."_  
-Planetary Mnemonic taught to Hoenn schoolchildren to learn the order of the planets in the Corona System; _Jasandax, Ramdyne, Maridia, Kazmar, Olintus, Calmencia, Camashk, and Loranes._

**Capitol Building, Evergrande City  
Hoenn**

Harry Kim's copy of _Candide_ had been restored to its rightful position at the top of his bookshelf. As an optimist, he knew that idolizing the book was certainly a strange choice. By all interpretations, _Candide_ was a complete rebuke of the philosophy of optimism, or at the very least Leibnizian optimism. Yet, the rather bleak black and white world described by Voltaire contained the mythical utopia of El-Dorado, a post-scarcity society wherein all its people acted rationally. Voltaire designed the city to be impossible (and Kim was well aware of this reality), yet its inclusion in a starkly evil world seemed to show to Kim that Voltaire thought the idea of a light in the darkness to be an attractive one. Considering the less than reasonable foundation that El-Dorado was built on was just as ridiculous as that of the always nefarious outside world, Kim firmly believed that El-Dorado was in fact an ideal to _strive_ for. Even if he didn't hit the mark, at least it wasn't as bad as the fictional world called "Earth."

If one must live on "Earth" in lieu of El-Dorado, Voltaire recommends at the end of the novella to "till your own garden." Essentially, solve your own problems, as that's really that only thing one has control over. Kim, who had studied economics at Mossdeep Point Military Academy, identified Voltaire's solution to dealing with the world's evil to be remarkably similar to the solution to the Tragedy of the Commons problem. As had been posed to him in Economics 101, the Tragedy of the Commons is when no one owns a certain resource, so it is used to extinction by all parties involved. The solution to this problem was to privatize said resource. A common example was overfishing of Magikarp in certain parts of Maridia where fishing rights were not regulated. When certain waters were given private ownership, the fishermen were careful to fish only as much as they needed so the Magikarp would breed and replenish the resource. To Voltaire, privatizing one's "garden" prevented others from doing evil unto their "crops" yet gave them enough incentive to improve their portion of the massive garden that was Maridia.

The problem, of course, came from the fact that it was impossible to privatize an overarching society or the planet they all lived on. And with humanity's collective culture—societies, governments, planet, and general way of life—threatened by…

Harry Kim shuddered at the thought. He couldn't think about it now… he still had much to do today.

Regardless, it was for this purpose that Harry Kim saw to it that he himself save the world. He had sacrificed his entire life to the Commons, living as a political ascetic, in hopes that his willpower alone would be enough to direct the aggregate of human activity towards the stars… and more importantly, towards safety. In a way, Kim was the element that the Tragedy of the Commons problem did not account for: an altruistic agent.

A report from Liberty's Crusade indicated that the squad had met heavy resistance from the Blades gang in the Pyrite slums. They had lost two squad members, both former DARK commandos. What was more troubling to Kim was that Neo Winterfield had gone missing several days ago. According to Shairii Woldrac's report, the Crusade had interrogated a captured Blade whom revealed that Winterfield was alive, but had been sold to DyneTech for experimentation. The thug revealed to Woldrac that the Blades had been informed by DyneTech to expect a strike team from Hoenn. Bron Krad immediately put DARK's current Commander, Liam Saki, on the case to find and plug the leak.

"Mr. Winterfield, Liberty's Crusade is doing all they can to locate your son," Kim reassured Nathaniel Winterfield over the phone. "They have confirmed him to be alive. And, honestly, Neo has gotten himself out of worse scrapes than this one. Worrying isn't going to do anyone any good right now."

"I know you're right, but I can't help it. You'll understand when you're a father," the elder statesman told Kim. "Regardless, as far as I'm concerned, I raised him right. I need to put my faith in him."

"Good! Anyways, if you need anything, don't hesitate to call. And I'll see you at your campaign event in Rustboro tomorrow?" Kim gracefully tried to end the call. The mountain of work building up was becoming daunting.

"Yes. I look forward to seeing you there (and getting it out of the way)."

Jonathan Frisby, Kim's Vice-President burst into the room moments after the call ended. The force of the door would have put a hole in Kim's wall had it not been for the doorstop. Frisby was a seasoned politician from Oldale. Kim had recruited him when he was seeking election to balance out his ticket and garner votes from the older, more conservative citizens of Hoenn. In their official capacities, the two barely worked together. The Vice-President position, if anything, was primarily ceremonial. He couldn't afford to waste someone from his inner circle on that position.

"President Kim, we received a phone call from Raidon Makoto moments ago. He wants to speak to you," Frisby recounted. "Should I pass him onto DARK?"

Raidon Makoto was a man that Harry Kim hoped he would never have to speak to again. They had only spoke once during the Sevii Islands Conflict. Never had he met someone so vain and callously unaware of the consequences of his actions. Makoto and his band of pirates were nothing more than agents of chaos whom put existed only to put a wrench into the works that were civilized society. "Put him through to me."

"Yes sir," Frisby said, and scurried out of the room. A light on Kim's phone began to blink moments later. Makoto had been parked on Line 4. Kim gingerly picked up the phone, put it to his ear and pressed the blinking button.

"This is President Harris Kim of the Hoenn Council. For what reason do I have the _pleasure_ of speaking to you today, Mr. Makoto?"

"Oh, I'm so glad to finally be speaking you. That hold music was awful," Makoto quipped. Kim didn't even try to fake laughter. "I have a proposition for you, Harry."

"What is it?" Kim said. He was fairly certain the answer was going to be _no_, as he was fairly certain Aqua had nothing to offer him other than blackmail or coercion.

"We've come across an interesting piece of information regarding a terrorist cell in Kanto that would just be overjoyed to see you bite the dust. They call themselves "The New Order," Makoto explained.

"DARK is aware of the groups' actions, yes," Kim commented.

"Yes, but do they know the location of their headquarters?" Makoto offered. _That is an interesting piece of information. As far as I know, we've never been able to track them down to a central location._ Kim accessed the Sapiento Network, DARK's information aggregate, and pulled up the classified file on The New Order to confirm his suspicions. "We're willing to trade you this information to a battery of cruise missiles for the _Deathwing_. They're just so hard to come by on the black market these days."

Kim had to laugh at that, "Ha, that's a good one! No way in hell, Makoto. The last thing I need to deal with right now is a scandal. I can just see the headline: "President Kim sells weapons to rogue PMC. Is Hoenn safe?""

"No one needs to know," Makoto tried to negotiate.

"It doesn't matter if anyone knows or not. That's just _so_ morally reprehensible I don't even want to _think_ about it—you're just not going to do anything positive for anyone with those missiles."

"But—" Makoto began.

""But" nothing. Good day, Makoto!" Kim exclaimed.

"You'll be sorry," Makoto threatened before Kim slammed down the phone.

**Evergrande International Airport, Evergrande City  
Hoenn**

The sun was setting in the west as Kim boarded his private jet to Rustboro. He had a very kind endorsement written for Nathaniel Winterfield that he was sure would win him re-election within his district. Besides doing a favor for a very dear friend, Kim needed Winterfield to maintain order in Parliament. Kim needed a legislative body that would behave for him in order to see his plans to fruition.

His tie flapped in the wind as he ascended the steps when he phone began to buzz. He saw it was Bron Krad. "Harry, DARK has found the leak."

"Really? Tell me more." Kim asked.

"We traced a message sent to Orre revealing the existence of Liberty's Crusade back to Orson Barkley. Would you like DARK to take care of him?" Krad inquired.

"Not yet. Let me think this over."


	14. Dark Acts of Infamy: Landon III

_Chapter 3: Dark Acts of Infamy_

**Landon**

_"Ditto hybrids are some of the strangest creatures we've created. They ostensibly become a Ditto, as they have complete control over their transformative abilities, yet, unlike the Ditto, they are limited by the law of conservation of mass. However much 'stuff' each Ditto hybrid has is the amount of 'stuff' they're able to use to transform into. This restriction causes certain large transformations to be scaled down. However, this research could prove useful in two aspects. The first is the military applications of Ditto hybrids—they create the perfect units for espionage. The second is that Ditto hybrids experience the same difficulty that the HRT team is encountering when trying to transform hybrids into full Pokemon: the basic laws of physics."_  
-DyneTech Project Marth Research Journal #347

**Motel 16, Rustboro City Outskirts  
Hoenn**

Landon Torvald felt _different_. It wasn't a painful kind of different, but an _interesting_ kind of different. His body felt much more fluid, as if he could move it around in any at any position. As a human, he always felt as though his body's homeostasis was stable. Now it required effort to ensure he maintained a human form. Moreso, the world around him felt just as fluid as his body. It was almost as if he could pass through anything just as much as anything could pass through him.

These new experiences caused Torvald to experiment on himself to try and find the limits of his newfound powers. The first thing he found out was that he could no longer feel pain. No matter how many times he stabbed himself, fell down, or jammed his head into the bedpost, he felt nothing. The object would just go straight through his skin and be absorbed by his gelatinous form. He also found that there were limits to his transformations. It seemed that, despite how big he concentrated on being, there was a certain maximum size he could achieve. The maximum size also varied on how complicated the form was. He also found that he could mimic clothes with his powers, but the fabric would feel… _fleshy_. He liked to think that the clothes he imagined on his body had the same consistency of a human skin wallet.

In the privacy of the Motel, Torvald ceased concentrating on maintaining a form and let his body assume its natural state. As he found, his natural state was a humanoid form that resembled his original human size, however, his body was pink and gelatinous like a Ditto.

Torvald had come to Rustboro because he knew Harry Kim would be here. He clutched a magazine with a re-election advertisement for Nathaniel Winterfield, claiming that Harry Kim and Hans Vehlstein would be speaking at his rally tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. He was determined to pay Kim back for the hospitality that his agents in Aqua provided on the _Deathwing_ a little over a week ago.

The transformation into a Ditto hybrid was absolutely serendipitous for Torvald. It would now require no effort to get close to Kim. All he needed to do was kill someone that was scheduled to be on the stage and take his or her place. He only had a few hours to figure out who would be in Winterfield's entourage, so he had to get to work.

Using a good chunk of the New Order's remaining funds, Torvald purchased himself a laptop computer. It wasn't anything fancy (in fact, it was the cheapest model he could find that would turn on), but it got the job done. Landon set up an open source social media monitoring channel to sift through all major social media channels about certain subjects. He entered in every keyword and hashtag he could think of that would only give him entries about the rally tomorrow.

Most were comments expressing excitement over the rally tomorrow or condemning Nathaniel Winterfield and Harry Kim over their reluctance to put boots on the ground in Orre. Other comments were analyzing rumors about a recent outbreak of fighting in Pyrite Town. Some conspiracy theorists were professing that they were a squad of Hoenn soldiers and were pleading with the collective consciousness of the Internet to ask Kim for a comment on it tomorrow. Torvald deleted those comments instantly; he thought that they were crazy.

And then… bingo. A tweet from Rustboro City comptroller Drahvin Vargas appeared on Torvald's screen, as if a gift bestowed upon him by Arceus.

_"Excited to have been invited to speak at the Nathaniel Winterfield rally tomorrow! Look for me on stage."_

Torvald input Drahvin Vargas' name into a personal information database at paid $10 to get everything available on Vargas, including his home address. He wrote down the address and transformed into the form of a bystander he had seen earlier this morning (what he had designated as his "incognito form") and exited the motel. He liquefied and broke into the nearest car, squeezing himself through the cracks in the door. From there, hotwiring the car was just like riding a bicycle—you never forget how.

It was a pleasant fifteen minute drive as Torvald watched the Rustboro houses progressively get nicer as the city transformed from slum into gated community around him. He pulled up to Vargas' address, parked the car, and broke into his house much in the same way he broke into the car.

At the top of the stairs and to the left, Vargas was sleeping peacefully next to his wife. Torvald, now in his natural state, crept up to the married couple and put his hands on their mouths and noses, plugging them with his goop. Both of their eyes sprang open as they collectively shot up and tried to fight the pink home invader. Their kicks and punches were futile—they just went right through Torvald.

After a few minutes of struggling, the two finally stopped moving. Landon threw them to the ground and studied Drahvin Vargas carefully for a moment. Closing his eyes and picturing the now vivid image of Vargas, he assumed his form with one added twist: he replaced Vargas' fingers with that of the fingers he absorbed from his torturer on the _Deathwing_. Grabbing a knife from the kitchen, Torvald mutilated the bodies just to make sure they were dead.

According to the report he purchased, the Vargases had no kids and no pets. Ergo, there were no other witnesses for him to dispose of. Torvald imagined himself in a _very_ nice suit and left the house (this time using the door). Once he re-entered the car, he went over a mental checklist of things left to do. _I suppose I should crash the car before I show up to the party._

He grabbed his bag from the backseat which contained his laptop and one other, very special item. He forced the item into his abdomen. _This will be the final experiment on me. Kaede would be impressed by my scientific approach._

He was ready to finally meet Harry Kim, face-to-face.


	15. Dark Acts of Infamy: Neo III

**Neo**

_"Kate, I love you! I want you to be mine and me to be yours from now until the end of time."_  
-Neo Winterfield proposing to Kate Masters

**DyneTech Labs, Realgem Tower  
Orre**

{**Neo! You must awaken!**}

Winterfield woke up in his cell with a cold sweat. The same vision filled his head every time he fell asleep for the past week he spent in captivity. He dreamt himself falling into the sea and descending into its depths. A few minutes in, he would run out of air and try to breathe the water to little effect. He would convulse underwater, trying as hard as he could to reach the surface for a life-saving breath but would never make it. Just as he was on the brink of death, a four-winged dragon that swam like a fish saved him from death, filling him with all the oxygen he could ever need in his life.

The near death experiences were just as traumatic each time. With every successive dream, Winterfield felt like he was slipping closer and closer into the bony fingers of Death, the shade saving him only _after_ he had abandoned all hope. Each night, Winterfield gave up on life only to have it forced back onto him. The shade would impart to him that he needed to use this gift for the good of the world. Winterfield liked to imagine that it was the voice of Harry Kim telling him this.

The dreams were the only thing to occupy his mind. His prison cell was a 5x5 concrete room with only one door. They didn't even have the courtesy to pad the walls. Winterfield had a hunch that DyneTech didn't particularly care if their captives did themselves in; there was a large, head-shaped blood splatter in the corner of the room. When he wasn't analyzing and re-analyzing the dreams he was having, he tried to imagine who occupied this cell before him and what it was that caused him to finally snap and end it. Was it the boredom? Or did DyneTech do something to him that was just unimaginably cruel?

The other thing that disturbed him was that he had become a Pokemon hybrid, but he was unable to tell exactly what he was. The light was too dim and there were no mirrored surfaces within the cell. All he knew was that his arms had become winglike, his skin was much smoother, and he had a tail.

Winterfield tried to remain hopeful, as Harry would encourage him to do, but with each day it got harder. He was no longer able to walk. The first torture DyneTech put him through was putting a bolt through each of his Achilles' heels. Crippled for life, Winterfield was only able to move by crawling. _How am I going to continue in the military? I suppose they could transition me into Vehlstein's position early._ That, of course, required Vehlstein to retire early. In his delirium, Winterfield had convinced himself that he would be tenable to that option once he saw Winterfield's condition. Regardless, he held onto the idea that he had _some_ future. Harry Kim would never let him fall on his back without helping him back up. That was the kind of man he was.

{**Fool. Why delude yourself? You're done. You're just sitting here waiting for them to inject you with some infernal cocktail of drugs and then to put a bullet behind your eyes. Why lie to yourself? At least be honest in your final moments. They can write that on your epitaph. Neo Winterfield the Honest. Died like a sniveling dog in a foreign country without even the honor of a battle.**} Winterfield knew cabin fever was getting to him. It was getting harder and harder to shake the voices, thinking out loud the thoughts he tried to hard to suppress.

A slat under the door opened and thrust a clay dish full of water and moistened bread particles into Winterfield's cell. It was his daily alms. Like a rabid dog, he descended upon the "meal" absorbing every calorie he could while soothing his dry, raspy throat. Once it was all gone, he licked the dish clean just to make sure he had gotten _everything_. It was _automatic_. He didn't even _think_ about how to attack the food. He just _went_ for it. DyneTech was turning him into an animal! He threw the clay dish at the concrete wall in disgust with himself, breaking the surface into a few shards.

Noticing the edges on the clay, he briefly flirted with ending it all. An image of Kate flitted through his mind. No matter what future he imagined, bright or dark, Kate was there, by his side. She was _his_ rock, just as much as he was hers. He put the piece of clay down and the door was yanked open. Two very tough-looking men in all black pseudo-military garb had opened the door. They were flanked by a blonde woman in a lab coat. The nametag read "Dr. Amy Anderson."

"Prisoner ZZ-456," Dr. Anderson read off of a chart. "Come with us." One of the bodyguards clipped a chain to Winterfield's collar and they walked him down the hall like a dog and to the left. Having two automatic rifles pointed at him, Winterfield had no choice but to comply. Once he was in the room, he saw two things: a large, green vat and a metal cross.

"Dr. Massadar, here is the next test subject for the HRT vaccine," Dr. Anderson told the bald, bespectacled man. He bent over and checked Winterfield out, holding open his eyes and putting his finger in his mouth to inspect his gums. It took all of his willpower to not bite down on Massadar's finger, despite the immediate hatred he felt for the man.

"He will do. String him up, boys," Dr. Massadar said. The two bodyguards dragged Winterfield the remaining five feet and lifted him onto the cross, tying him into place. One of them tore off his remaining clothes, revealing his nudity to the entire room. There was a mirror directly facing Winterfield now. He took a quick look and was instantly able to recognize the Pokemon he had forever fused with: _Lugia._

"A Lugia hybrid. This one will be interesting for sure. I imagine we'll be able to do great things with you in our private army," Massadar taunted Winterfield. "After we transform you, all we need to do is close off your heart to the world, and you'll be a brainless killing machine. Harry Kim will be too afraid to question our rule of Orre a second time."

"You know?" Winterfield spat out.

"Oh, of course we knew. Lieutenant General Winterfield. Or do you prefer being called Neo?" Massadar asked. "Regardless, yes, we knew. Our cashflow runs deep in your country."

"What are you going to do to me?" Winterfield asked, eyeing the vat.

"That right there is a vat full of liquefied stem cells extracted from Mew DNA. Basically, they're wildcard biological matter. It can turn into _anything_. We're going to put you in there, inject you with a drug we call the Hypo-retroviral Transformation, or HRT for short, and see what happens."

It was sick. Massadar smiled. It was as if he was completely aware of the fact that he no longer had any scruples. "What ever happened to the patient's consent, Doctor?"

"Science must march on, Neo," Massadar said. He pushed a red button on a computer console and a winch began to whir behind Winterfield. "Now, don't worry about the stem cells. They're oxygenated. Just breathe deeply when you go for a dip and let it fill your lungs." The cross was lifted up into the air and then put into the vat. Winterfield held his breath, but was unable to keep it held for long. He inhaled the green liquid. It was uncomfortable for a minute, but Massadar was right. The goop was breathable.

Two needles descended upon Neo from each side and directly pierced his arms, straight into the bone. The payload from the needles burned like razor blades. Winterfield screamed. His body began to hurt all over, as if he was melting into a pile of ash. His heart raced faster than it ever had in his entire life. He wanted to upchuck the contents of his stomach despite the fact that there was none. He felt like he was gaining weight rapidly. On a panel across the way, he saw that his heart rate had elevated to 300 beats.

"This is the point wherein the previous experiments died of heart attacks. Let's see how this one goes," Massadar said to Anderson.

{**Stay strong, Neo.**}

He tensed his muscles. As he tensed, he felt them enlarge as well. The length of his neck expanded as his head poked above water. Winterfield let out a mighty roar of pain. His wingspan had lengthened significantly. They curled around the spherical surface of the vat, desperately trying to fit. His feet, now with only two toes and a dew toe, were placed firmly on the ground. The rope keeping him on the cross had broken. Sensing his opportunity, Winterfield roared again and spun around rapidly.

He was now a full Lugia.

He leapt out of the vat, charging at the equipment, destroying it in one blow. The soldiers immediately opened fire. Winterfield batted them away with such force that they died upon impact with the wall. He roared again! Massadar slammed down on a button and fled the room with Dr. Anderson. Several metallic walls began to close around the experiment zone, but they meant nothing to the demigod that Winterfield had become. He flapped his wings with such a fury that the metal sheared from the wall and flew through the wall separating the lab from the prison.

He sling-shot himself down the hall, bursting open the doors of each of the captives' prisons along the way. He was their guardian angel, freeing them from their undue punishment. Winterfield was harrowing hell and no one could stop him.

He continued his rampage into the next room, bursting through the walls until he was able to find a window. He cracked it open and emerged, feeling the sun upon his body for the first time in a week. The warmth felt good. He began to flap his wings once again at one of the struts keeping Realgem Tower in place. Scientists and businessmen alike were fleeing in the pneumatic tube system set up in front of Realgem. _Let them flee! Someone must know what I did on this day. Their hearts will shudder with fear the moment someone suggests further experiments on people._

He pierced through the second strut, knocking the whole building over. Winterfield focused hard on the collapsing tower of smoke, gently guiding it down with only his mind. He didn't want to unnecessarily kill the prisoners he had just freed. Once the tower touched down, the adrenaline wore off. Winterfield fell to the ground in an instant.

He briefly closed his eyes, and then re-opened them. Shairii Woldrac and Patrick Costello were standing next to him, holding his wing. The other members of Liberty's Crusade were seeing to Winterfield's wounds. "Shairii… Patrick…" Winterfield mumbled before passing out.


	16. Dark Acts of Infamy: Harry IV

**Harry**

_"Orders? –BK"_  
-Message received by Harry Kim after arriving in Rustboro City

**Rustboro Conference Center, Rustboro City  
Hoenn**

Rustboro was the largest city on the eastern seaboard. In recent years, it's become the home of several large tech development companies. The largest of these was Samkat & Trevor, a private engineering lab. They made everything from plastic strips to guns to spaceship fuselages. Kim had seen a bill through the Parliament last year giving certain companies like Samkat & Trevor extensive tax breaks in order to reward them for the good work they were doing on the Hoenn space program.

Upon waking up in the penthouse suite of the Rustboro Conference Center, he had received a message from Bron Krad regarding the first crucial thrust of Hoenn's space program: the Daisi Voyager. According to Krad, the Daisi satellite filed another report this morning and Kim needed to be briefed on the news upon his return home. Kim texted Krad back and thanked him for the update. Krad instantly replied: "What about that other pain in your _a_ss?"

"Still unsure," Kim sent back. He then hauled his _a_ss out of bed, noting how much better he felt in the morning with five hours of sleep instead of the usual four. He went into the hotel bathroom to make himself decent and put on his black suit and red tie. He finished the ensemble off by inserting a Hoenn flag pin in his suit jacket flap. He looked at his neatly-preened dressings, a holdover habit from the Hoenn military, and saluted himself in the mirror.

He heard a knock at the door. Kim looked through the hole to see that the familiar suit-and-sunglassed form of his bodyguard, Jimmy Bends. He opened the door to let Bends in. "Morning sir. I've brought you some coffee and the morning paper." Kim snatched the coffee out of Bends hands and quickly gulped down the life-saving liquid. He then sat down on the couch and unfurled the paper.

"You know what's funny about the newspaper, Jimmy?" he asked.

"The funny pages?" Bends made his best attempt at verbal repartee.

"First of all, don't quit your dayjob. You have no future in stand-up comedy. Second of all, no. The headlines are always about some conflict or tragedy in the world." Kim pointed to the current headline "Bombing at Realgem!" "It makes you think that there's nothing out there beyond Hoenn's borders besides suffering, killing and hate. The headline is never "Peace Breaks Out In Maridia for the 1,134th day in a row." Kim explained referencing the armistice agreement made with the Sevii Islands more than three years ago. "Which, by the way, speaking of this headline, have I received a report from Orre yet?"

"General Vehlstein wanted to brief you himself when he saw you downstairs," Bends explained. Kim's heart dropped. Something like that never meant anything good. He was afraid that Vehlstein was going to be the bearer of bad news. Instantly, his mind turned to the subject of Neo Winterfield. _Don't be dead. You **can't** be dead. We still have so much work left to do._ Kim shot straight up, dropped the paper, and trashed the disposable coffee cup.

Kim and Bends took the elevator down the conference center, wherein the media and guests were already beginning to gather for the campaign rally. Kim was immediately swarmed by hungry journalists, looking for the next big story: "President Kim, do you have any comments on the bombing of Reaglem Tower this morning?" "President Kim, what do you say to rumors that the Realgem incident was performed a Hoenn commando squad?" "Eyewitness accounts say that a legendary Pokemon destroyed Realgem. Does this match your intel?"

Kim opened the door to the main conference room and said to the reporters, "I have no comments right now. I am _literally_ right about to be briefed about it." The pair entered the empty conference room. Nathaniel Winterfield was at the podium practicing his speech. General Vehlstein was sitting behind him, checking his cell phone. "Nathaniel, Hans, it's fantastic to see the both of you this morning."

"Harry, thank you so much for coming out to the event and supporting me. I'm pretty sure I'll win re-election, but it's good to remind the people of Rustboro who their elected representatives are once and again," the elder statesman said.

"And I'm quite surprised you showed up to this, Hans," Kim teased. "This isn't your kind of thing." Vehlstein scornfully stared at Kim, crossing his arms.

"Well, I couldn't have my son come out here to stand next to me, so I made sure I had the next best thing," Winterfield laughed, patting Vehlstein on the back. Vehlstein snarled at Winterfield.

"Anyways, I heard that there's a report from Liberty's Crusade?" Kim said.

"A report? You didn't say anything about this, Hans," Winterfield said to him.

"That's because it's classified, President Kim," Vehlstein explained.

"I mean, I was going to tell Nathaniel anyways, since it pertains to his son," Kim explained.

"I'll give you the full debrief after the event. The reporters are making me uneasy and we're really going to need to masterfully craft our response to this one. They f_u_cked up. Big time."

"Please at least tell me Neo's alright?" Kim pressed.

"…he's… _alive_."

"Oh, that's fantastic news!" Winterfield cheered. Tears were visible in the corners of his eyes. Kim had the feeling that he had been worrying about his son a _lot_ more than he had previously let on.

Kim ascended the stairs and took a seat between Vehlstein and Winterfield. The local delegation that was to fill out the rest of the stage started petering in. Kim greeted and shook hands with each one of them. Mayor Ryan Vander, Secretary Max Rayner, Comptroller Drahvin Vargas, and several local trustees were the first to file in. "President Kim, it's fantastic to see you again," Vander said to Kim.

"Likewise Mayor…" Kim looked down at the nametag on the mayor's lapel, "Vander."

"And Mr. Kim, let me say, I am so happy to finally be able to lay eyes on you. My real eyes on the real you," Vargas said while shaking Kim's hand. _He's a little… off. I'll just smile and nod. He's probably just nervous._ Once security gave the room an A-OK, reporters and guests started to permeate the doors of the room, occupying the hundreds of seats in the audience. The room was packed in only a few minutes. Reporters had set up their equipment on the edges of the aisles. The stage-dwellers were bathed in the light of camera flashes. Camera flashes were on of the few things Kim still could not stand since the war. Each time he saw one, his first though was that it was a flashlight-wielding guard from the prison camp coming for him at night. Luckily, Kim was able to keep this impulse in check in public.

The mayor got up and stood at the podium, thanking the audience for their presence and telling a heartwarming city about how Nathaniel Winterfield had once helped him help out the city. Vander went into his personal appeal for why Winterfield deserved re-election and then introduced Harry Kim to the audience.

The flashes intensified as Kim got up to the podium. He wiped sweat from his brow and put his hands on each end of the podium. Kim had no need for notes; he had memorized his entire speech on the plane ride to Rustboro.

"Nathaniel Winterfield is one of my absolute favorite men to work with in Evergrande," Kim began. "Never have I met a more jovial person than him. Whenever he comes into my office, it's always with the biggest smile you could imagine plastered on his face. Even when the prognosis was grim during the darkest days of the Almia Crisis last year, Winterfield brought an air of levity and relief to the room. I would have not made it through the Crisis had it not been for his good spirits. Evergrande would _truly_ lose its most valuable asset were Winterfield to not win re-election.

Besides his personable nature, Winterfield has been instrumental in the creation of some of Hoenn's most important pieces of legislation in his last term. The recent Space Program, which created more than a thousand new jobs for Hoenn, everywhere from janitors up to rocket scientists, is thanks to the tireless efforts of Nathaniel Wintefield. I tell you, Winterfield isn't just a politician. The man is a _statesman_, and one of rare breed these days."

Kim paused to take a breath. Immediately, one of the members of the audience shouted "WARMONGER! YOU ATTACKED REALGEM!" Another person on the other side of the room butted in "DON'T TAKE US TO WAR, MR. PRESIDENT." A third heckler concurred, shouting "WARMONGER!" Security tried to remove the harassing individuals from the room, but they resisted, screaming and shouting all along the way.

Kim stopped his speech, looked at the rogue members of the audience and said "As long as I am breathing, this world will not go to war!"

Kim blinked. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor at the foot of the podium. He couldn't feel his arms and legs. His chest was covered in blood. His ears rang. He looked over to see what was once a stage was now a smoldering hole in the ground. People were running around screaming. He opened his mouth to yell for help from Bends, but he choked on smoke before he could say anything.

Standing above Kim was the specter that watched him every night as he tried to sleep. The black, bony demon that Harry Kim saw at the bottom of the Nasmar Temple in the Sevii Islands after he had escaped the prison camp the first time haunted him in all his moments of weakness since. It put a claw up and stroked Kim's cheek, insanely smiling all the while. _This_ creature was what he worked to fight every single day. After Kim laid eyes on its corpse-like body, he rededicated is life to saving humanity from _it._ The election, the space program… It was all a carefully crafted measure to keep another world war from awakening this beast. {**Oh, poor Harry. You really thought you could save the world from little old _me?_ Peace? That's quite the joke. I'm coming back, and there's nothing you or Arceus can do to stop me!**}

Kim looked at the nightmare with an intense hatred solely reserved for the creature. He raised his hand in an effort to wring the creature's neck, but everything faded to black before he reached its pipe-like neck.

_HARRY KIM exits stage right._


	17. Dark Acts of Infamy: Landon IV

**Landon**

_"Ever since Landon's parents died, he's just been…_ off_. He inherited their entire fortune and decided to waste it trying to destroy the world's political systems. It's kind of sad. He keeps talking to me about all his "followers" even though I know the truth: he's the only one."_  
-Private Journal of Kaede Kuyokisaka, childhood friend of Landon Torvald

**Rustboro Conference Center, Rustboro City  
Hoenn**

Infiltrating the conference center was easy. Once Mayor Vander saw him in the form of Drahvin Vargas, he waved him over to his group of local politicians. "Vinnie! How are you and the wife?"

Torvald almost had to suppress a laugh, "Oh, we're fine. The wife is home today watching me on TV."

"I was wondering why you didn't have her in tow," Vander observed. "Well, anyways, let's get through security and get our seats. Today should be good. Oh, Vinnie, how are the finance reports going? Do you think we'll be able to put them up on the city's website next week?"

"Pfft, next week? They'll be ready tomorrow," Torvald lied.

"Oh that's fantastic! Remind me to buy you a drink when they open up the bar," Vander promised. They walked over to the line to get into the conference room. Torvald presented the stolen Drahvin Vargas' stolen ID to the security guard. He waved the metal detection wand over Landon's abdomen to check for any foreign objects. Unsurprisingly, it started beeping.

"Sir, do you have something metal in your pockets?" the guard asked.

"No, I have a… hip plate," Torvald explained. He couldn't have the security guard find the bomb before he delivered the payload.

"When did you get a hip plate, Vinnie?" Mayor Vander asked.

"I've always had it, don't you remember?" Torvald tried to lie his way out of the situation. The guard waved over a Growlithe to the line. The anarchist assumed that it was a bomb-sniffing Growlithe. _Alright, don't panic. If they find the bomb, all I need to do is detonate it early. Cut my losses and run._ The fire Pokemon sniffed around Torvald a few times and then walked away.

"Checks out," the guard said. Torvald pushed through the door, eager to get as far away from the police as possible. Vander led him up the stairs to the seats on the stage. To Landon, it felt weird to see so many people below him… watching him. His every move was being evaluated by hundreds of people in a room and millions more watching from home.

Harry Kim came up and shook Mayor Vander's hand first. He then moved on to some of the other city officials. Finally, he came to me. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Vinnie. The mayor here tells me you're one hell of a comptroller. We need to get you working for Isaiah in the Treasury."

_Don't blow it. Just act natural. It isn't time yet._ "And Mr. Kim, let me say, I am so happy to finally be able to lay eyes on you. My real eyes on the real you." _F_u_ck! That was totally stupid._

Kim smiled at him, blow air out of his nose like he thought my greeting was funny, and then retreated back to his seat. He exchanged a few comments with Hans Vehlstein while waiting for Mayor Vander to start the show. Once a few people nodded at Vander, including Harry Kim himself, the local politicians rose from his seat and began speaking. His speech was mostly fluff. It was just some inspirational story about Nathaniel Winterfield. The man was a pencil pusher, not an orator, and it showed. Badly. Kim tried hard to keep his composure and not laugh out loud. At least, that's what Torvald thought.

Kim then got up to say a few words about Nathaniel Winterfield. However, in the middle of the speech, the audience started to heckle him, calling him a "WARMONGER." The irony was not lost on Torvald. Kim didn't want war—he was the world's secret leader after all. Why would he destroy his own property and his own underlings' lives? Regardless, Torvald was waiting for just the right moment to blow the roof off of the party. "As long as I am breathing, this world will not go to war!" Kim declared. _Time to stop breathing,_ Torvald thought.

He concentrated on separating each individual cell in his body, yet remaining a singular sense of one-ness. He then activated the bomb inside of his stomach, sending pieces of himself flying all over the room and reducing the stage to ash. The city politicians and Hans Vehlstein died instantly from the shrapnel. Nathaniel Winterfield was blown to the other side of the room and slammed into a wall. Kim, however, laid in the area between the audience and the stage. People, understandably, were screaming their heads off. Many of the people in the first row caught shrapnel with their faces. Those that survived were trying to get the attention of someone that could help them seek urgent medical help.

The reporters though swarmed on Kim's body like vultures to a corpse. Kim reached up to the sky with his hand in a vain attempt to right himself. The muscles in the arm failed and the arm dropped. He rolled over. The political paparazzi committed every moment to celluloid, but not one went over to help him until he stopped moving.

One of them finally gathered the courage to go up to the corpse and put his fingers on the body's neck. He felt it for a few seconds and said "He's dead!"

Those that surrounded the body gasped in shock. Several people started crying. Others immediately started filming stories with Kim's lifeless corpus merely a background prop. Many, for generations to come, would ask "Where were you on the day Harry Kim died?" Torvald would always have the best answer: right in the middle of it.

He started to think about becoming one entity again. The Ditto goop started to centralize around ground zero of the impact. Once he was sure he had most of himself together, he moved himself towards a nearby air duct and out the back door of the conference center. Waiting for him was his bag with laptop and a disposable cell phone. He flipped out the phone and punched Kaede's number into the keypad.

"Oh my god, Landon, where you? It's awful. Someone killed Harry Kim!"

"Kaede! I did it! The puppetmaster is dead!" Torvald exclaimed. "The New Order is back in business. Anarchy will spread like wildfire with the one world leader dead and buried."

"You did _what_?" Kaede said, shocked. "Landon… this is _serious_! I never thought you meant it when you said you were going to… oh my God. It's my fault. I enabled you."

"What are you talking about, Kaede?" Torvald replied. At least, he would have replied had Kaede not hung up the phone. Torvald was alone again, a ringing dial tone the only thing keeping him company. _Alone? Haven't I always been alone?_

* * *

**Scoreboard**  
_**Hoenn Council** - 0 Points  
**Aqua PMC** - 0 Points  
**The New Order** - 1 Point  
**Cult of Ketsuban** - 0 Points  
**[LOCKED]**  
**[LOCKED]**  
**[LOCKED]**  
**[LOCKED]**  
**[LOCKED]**_


	18. Dark Acts of Infamy: Mike II

**Mike**

_Here's to you, President Kim.  
Let your seeds unite to fight 'im.  
At last this final moment is yours.  
Through agony you triumph!_  
-"Here's To You" by Ennio Morricone & Joan Baez, rewritten for Harry Kim's funeral

**Slateport Superdome, Slateport City  
Hoenn**

It all happened so fast after the Rustboro bombing. In an instant, Harry Kim's life was snuffed out of existence. Kim's death left a void not just in Hoenn, but in the world. And like any void, all of the mass around it is trying its damndest to fill in the space.

Kim, Vehlstein, and Winterfield all had their bodies taken to a local mortuary in Rustboro for their families to pick-up and make arrangements for a funeral. Winterfield's was the first to be taken by his wife. Vehlstein's was picked up by his grandchildren. Harry Kim's sat there for two days before it was claimed by a DARK Officer named Jason Kiev. As it turned out, Kim had no living family, no romantic flames, and no other non-political connections. He lived his entire life in the public's eye as a political ascetic so that nothing could be used against him; or, as Mike Anone mused, so nothing petty could stand between him and world peace.

Kiev had been educated in anthropology and archaeology. He was an archaeologist by trade and made his living working for DARK analyzing and protecting objects of historical significance worldwide. He had been sent on a reconnaissance to the Sevii Islands to mark objects that needed to be protected from the horrors of war, but was discovered and captured by the Seviicks. He was then thrown into the prison camp on Birth Island where he met Harry Kim and another DARK agent whom was so deeply undercover that Kiev could only identify him as "BK." The group spent three years confined together and, according to Kiev, he was instrumental in helping Kim plan the revolt. As per Kiev, the three of them remained very close after the war. Even Harry Kim had a private life, as much as he worked to eradicate it from public scrutiny.

Unsurprisingly, at the public funeral held for Kim by the Hoenn Council, Kiev was asked to deliver the eulogy as "the person that knew him best."

The archaeologist ascended the stairs of the huge stage that had been constructed in the Slateport Superdome only the night before to speak to a crowd of 100,000 people. On the field itself, foreign leaders and dignitaries sat in folding-chairs that functioned as VIP seating. Behind Kiev was a black marble coffin and a sixty foot portrait of Harry Kim above it. A torch burned on top of the casket.

"Thank you all for coming out on this black, black day," Kiev began. Several of the foreign leaders nodded. Marlene Spiro, Chairwoman of the Sevii Islands Coalition, sat in the front row smiling like a lunatic. She _hated_ Kim and couldn't have been happier to hear of his death. Anone sat in the front row of the VIP seating next to the new Secretary of War and the new Vice-President.

* * *

(A/N: Italicized sections are flashbacks to the day before the funeral that Mike is remembering as Kiev speaks)

_"I am calling the first meeting of the Hoenn Council under the newly sworn-in President Jonathon Frisby to order," Vice-President Bron Krad said. To Anone, the meeting room just did not feel the same without Harry Kim's energy. There was no longer and unspoken "head" of the round table that they sat at. As the conversation bounced across the room, so did the social control. No one in the room had the same energy or charisma as Kim. He had been replaced with a pack of politicians._

"Our first order of business is replacing General Vehlstein," the new Secretary of War Norton "Norb" Whitehall said. Whitehall was a Fallarbor man who had been drafted from the Parliament to run the War Department. Under Orson Barkley and Nathaniel Winterfield, he was the senior-most Parliament member. "President Frisby and I have talked it over, and we would like you to become to the new General of the Hoenn Army, Mike."

"Me?" Anone asked, flabberghasted. "What about Neo Winterfield?"

"Have youseen_ Neo?" Frisby ejaculated. "They did some pretty twisted experiments on him in the DyneTech Lab. He's not even human anymore… He's a god damn Pokemon. We **cannot** let an animal be in charge of _Harry Kim_'s army! Mike, you're the only person with the experience that we can let run the show here."_

* * *

"The world could not have ever had a greater loss than that of Harris J. Kim. At only 28 years old, he still had lifetime ahead of him to make new strides in world peace and the betterment of the human condition," Kiev detailed. The archaeologist frequently stuttered while talking, pausing to wipe the beginnings of tears from the corners of his eyes. Anone wouldn't be surprised if he started straight-up bawling on stage. "I met Harry under less than ideal conditions. The two of us had been selected for invasive interrogation at Camp Alpha on Birth Island six years ago. From there, the shared trauma we experienced in… hell on Maridia… forged a friendship that I hoped would last _my_ lifetime. I am proud to call Harry Kim my best friend."

* * *

_"Well then, I humbly accept this honor you have bestow-" Anone began._

_"Cut the PC crap, we're in private and we don't have time for it, General," Frisby barked. Anone immediately stopped talking. _Harry never would have said that… _he thought._

_"The next thing we need to deal with is cleaning up Neo Winterfield's mess. How are we going to respond to Realgem?" Frisby asked. "Needless to say, it's going to cause an international incident if we don't handle this delicately. We never officially declared war on DyneTech Inc. or their land holdings. They're not Kirvestä, thus, we have no politically justified reason to launch a commando strike on Orre."_

_"I'm sorry, did you just recognize DyneTech as the legitimate political leaders of Orre?" Bron Krad asked. "Because it sounded like you just did."_

_"Yes. They have the strongest claim to legitimacy right now and the last thing we need is a god damn PHT Missile in the middle of Evergrande," Frisby replied. "I talked to Norb and Orson Barkley about this yesterday, and they think that this is the best course of action."_

_"Orson Barkley?" Krad almost yelled. "The man is a traitor and should have been hanging in the gallows _yesterday_. He sold Neo out to Orre and DARK has proof-"_

_"Yes, that sounds like a great idea! The president dies and we go out and issue proscriptions to kill his enemies in the streets for "treason." Do you have any other fantastic ideas, Julius?" Whitehall fired back, referencing the Shakespeare play _The Tragedy of Julius Caesar.

_"This is a non-issue right now. Let's deal with the problem at hand. All we need to do is deny, deny, deny. Liberty's Crusade were unmarked soldiers. We just say that they weren't ours. They've got no proof it was us other than hearsay. Any leftover issues can be smoothed over with the right investments here and there." Isaiah Carnegie finally contributed his two cents._

* * *

"We were fortunate to have been exposed to him during his brief stay on Maridia. Although his dreams were not allowed to reach fruition during his lifetime, Harry planted the seeds of something even greater than himself in his two years of public service. Hoenn's space program looks to be a resounding success. We could see ourselves exploring Maridia's moon within the year and sending rovers to Ramdyne and Kazmar within the decade," Kiev continued.

* * *

_"We can always count on Isaiah to make sense," Krad said. "The final issue we need to figure out _today_ is our response to Kim's assassination. The forensics department in DARK has reviewed media footage and determined that Drahvin Vargas was not the actual bomber, it was someone in disguise. We sent agents to the Vargas household and found that both Vargas and his wife had been murdered. Fingerprint analysis shows that these murders had been committed by an escaped prisoner from Mauville Penitentiary that now associates with Aqua PMC named Leigh Reynolds. He also goes by the name of "Finch." Raidon Makoto has already denied these claims, saying that Finch Reynolds was with him in Fiore when the incident happened. However, considering that Makoto called Kim on the phone only a few days ago to threaten him, they have both the motive and the resources to carry it out."_

_"The answer is obvious: we send the Hoenn Allegiance Navy after the boat that they stole and send them to Kyogre's lair. They're just a bunch of mercenaries," Anone said._

_"Yes, but Aqua also serves as the official army of Fiore. Declaring war on Aqua is declaring war on Fiore and the Sevii Islands by proxy and perhaps extension," Krad replied. "It might just be better, particularly in memory of Harry Kim, if we just let this one go." Anone hadn't realized the systemic connection Aqua had with other world powers. Krad was right; it would bring on a war over the death of Harry Kim. It wasn't the way he wanted to be remembered._

_"Before we waste time discussing this, let's just put it to a vote. How many people think we should annihilate Aqua?" Frisby suggested. Everyone in the room, save Anone, Krad, and Carnegie, raised their hands. "Mike, a sudden change of heart? We can't have a pacifist general."_

_"I was abstaining," Anone explained. "In this room, I follow orders. I don't make them."_

_"Vehlstein wouldn't have abstained," Frisby replied._

_"I'm not Vehlstein."_

_"Regardless, it looks like its decided. We will declare war on Aqua to avenge Harry Kim."_

* * *

Kiev was wrapping his eulogy up. He finished with, "O God, please give Harry Kim back! I shall keep asking of you!" The waterworks then began to flow as Kiev exited the stage. Anone then sat through several more hours of speakers; most were foreign leaders trying to commiserate with Hoenn's loss. Finally, Kim's pallbearers rose to walk the casket to the hearse outside the stadium. Kiev, Krad, Anone, and a fourth man wearing a trenchcoat dutifully walked the casket down the aisle, bathing it in the eyes of the thousands of present spectators and millions of spectators watching at home. Kim was a man that lived, died, and was buried in front of the entire world.

Once the casket was placed in the hearse, Anone put his hands in his pockets. He fumbled with a vial in his left pocket containing Kim's final gift, left to him in Kim's will.

* * *

_"Mike:_

_I was happy to finally sway you over to my side in our debate on optimism. In the event of my passing, which I was reminded of after I spoke to Raidon Makoto recently, I need you to use this for the good of Hoenn. While I love Neo, he's still a bit too green to fully realize the magnitude of this gift. It is a Crystal of Power, much like the Crystal of Energy that Richard Morgan discovered in Orre._

_"This one, however, is the Crystal of Weather. I was given this when I found myself in the ruins of a Nasmar Temple following my initial escape from the POW camp on Birth Island and it was what I used to spark the revolt in my final escape. As the name describes, it has the power to control the weather of the area around you. This area of effect increases depending on the strength of your willpower._

_"Do not, under any circumstances, touch the Crystal with your bare hands. In fact, try your best to not even look at it. When one is directly exposed to a Crystal, it destroys their mind. This is the true reason Pahaa Kirvestä was so hellbent on capturing this Crystal and why I ultimately had to have him killed. As a weak-willed person, the mere _thought_ of a Crystal was enough to drive him over the deep end._

_"Do not become like Kirvestä, Mike. Keep it safe and use it **only** for the good of man. And whatever you do, do not give the Crystal to anyone. These Crystals have the power to end reality as we know it._

_-Harry Kim"_

* * *

_Yes, Harry,_ Anone thought. _I shall accept this final wish and carry your burden. The trust you placed in me shall not be misguided. I will save the world for you._

* * *

**Crystals of Power**  
_**Crystal of Vision** - Aqua PMC [Kanto]  
**LOCKED** [Johto]  
**LOCKED** [Hoenn]  
**Crystal of Weather** - Hoenn Council [Sevii Islands]  
**Crystal of Energy** - Hoenn Council [Orre]  
**LOCKED** [Fiore]  
**LOCKED** [?] _


	19. Dark Acts of Infamy: Kent II

**Kent**

_"The Church of Ketsuban deeply mourns the death of President Harris Kim. However, its tremors have made the world a very dangerous place. We, as children of Ketsuban, have no choice but to arm ourselves in order to protect our right to worship as we choose."_  
-Statement made by the Church of Ketsuban following Harry Kim's assassination

**Ketsubian Compound, Blackthorn City  
Johto**

The High Flaafies of the Church decided to fly Kent Tousaka out to their compound in the mountains of Blackthorn City. As the car that brought Tousaka from the airport to the compound pulled up to the gate, he saw hundreds of fires being maintained around the compound. Tousaka found it strange – the PHT Virus would still be able to blow into the compound despite the fires "purifying" the air. They must have been purely for create a false sense of security for the denizens of the religious building.

The bespectacled driver showed Tousaka through the main entrance of the building and into the lobby. He was amazed at just how much the room shined. The marble floors were spotlessly clean and all the gold leaf accents were polished to a sparkle. He saw a monk bent over on the other side of the room, cleaning the floor with only a toothbrush. "The labor is an exercise of faith. Sometimes, Ketsuban places irksome yet necessary tasks upon us. Performing this labor with a smile on one's face demonstrates the principle of reverence to Ketsuban," the driver explained.

Tousaka took another look at the deathly-thin monk and said under his breath, "PokeGod, I choose you."

From the top of the spiral staircase emerged a man in a highly ornate brown robe. Depictions of various Pokemon, particularly Mareep, had been sewn into the very fabric of the robe. He removed the hood as he descended the staircase to meet the preacher. "Kent Tousaka, our star preacher in the field. I hear that no one can _electrify_ a sermon like you."

"I suppose my reputation precedes me," Tousaka replied good-naturedly. He shook hands with the holy man. Tousaka had never met him face-to-face before, but everyone in the church knew Ampharos Davion Bardem. The plump man shook Tousaka's hand and then enveloped him in a great big bear hug.

"Well, the churches you preach at all have received a huge bump in donations from their flocks. I'd say the numbers speak for themselves," Bardem said. Tousaka wanted to slap the arrogant smile off of his face. _This is the man that stole my memories._

"I live to serve the One True PokeGod," Tousaka said.

"PokeGod, I choose you," Bardem replied with a laugh. He put his hand on the small of Tousaka's back and led him into through the house into a dining room. A long table stood in the middle surrounded by expertly crafted chairs. There wasn't a single straight line in the room. Every piece of wood had been carefully curled with a lathe. He ran his hand across the table. _Mahogany,_ he thought. Bardem plopped himself down into the seat at the head of the table and a servant brought out a bowl of soup and a fresh bread crust. "Anything for you, my boy? Soup? Meat? Meade?"

"Oh, milord, all these things are far too decadent for my pious palette. A stale bread crust will do," Tousaka replied in a show of faux-humbleness. _I woke up one day two years ago, unable to remember a damn thing from the three years prior and found myself to suddenly be married to an expecting wife and a respected preacher within the Church of Ketsuban._ It didn't add up to Tousaka. _The Church did something to me in those three years. If I can find a way to replace Bardem, I'll have access to all of the Church's records. I'll be able to find out **exactly** what happened._

"How is Nayuki?" Bardem asked, soup dripping from the corners of his mouth. "I said that right, right? You Sinnohese have such complicated names. Whatever happened to the Jims and Bobs, eh?"

Tousaka suppressed the urge to slap Bardem across the face in response to his blatant show of racist tendencies and lied, "Nayuki is fine."

"Fantastic!" he cried out. The servant brought out Tousaka a crust of bread, however, it smelled fresh. _They don't have a damn piece of stale bread here._ "Now, you're probably wondering why I flew you out here today, eh? You see, Kenny—Can I call you Kenny?—anyways, the world is becoming a very, very dangerous place to survive. Maridia's most respected political leader and one of Ketsuban's chosen ones, Harry Kim, was just up and killed by some rogue army with an aircraft carrier."

"An aircraft carrier?" Tousaka asked. He hadn't heard much about Aqua PMC, the mercenary troupe that killed Harry Kim.

"Yes, a nuclear fission-powered aircraft carrier. Can you believe that?" Bardem scarfed down another mouthful of soup. He wiped his mouth off with a linen napkin and continued, "It's obvious the world is going to go to war. As you're unfortunately aware, we're not well… _understood_ by people of "mainstream" faiths. And well, you know that war and genocide go hand-in-hand." Tousaka nodded along with Bardem's narration. "Basically, Kenny, we need you on the homefront here at the compound. We, no I, need you to teach our traveling preachers how to _grab_ an audience like you do so we can convince our flocks to arm themselves in self-defense. The only way we're going to survive this war is if we protect ourselves from outside influence." Tousaka remained silent. Bardem, nervous, continued to blather on, "Of course, this would mean a promotion to the rank of High Flaafy."

Tousaka put the piece of bread he was working on back down onto the plate. _High Flaafy, eh? This would make me eligible to be elected Ampharos upon Bardem's demise._ "I can see the trouble we're in. I agree with you, milord, that this is an important mission I must embark on. I am ecstatic to be able to serve our PokeGod in such an instrumental fashion."

"Excellent!" Bardem emoted. In his excitement, he had knocked his soup bowl over, spilling soup everywhere and breaking the artistically designed ceramic. "Oh no. I suppose we'll have to get another one."

"One question, though, milord," Tousaka said, interrupting Bardem's celebration. "The PHT virus is spreading all across Kanto. It is bound to pass through the Indigo Pass into Johto within the week. Those fires outside just aren't going to be enough to prevent infection. Will we evacuate the compound when that comes to pass?"

Bardem laughed for a moment, "Oh, Kenny. If it's the will of our PokeGod for us to be merged with his beautiful creations, then it is His will. There's nothing we can do about it."

Tousaka's face froze. Serving here would guarantee the end of his humanity. He pondered for a second and then replied, "PokeGod, I choose you."


	20. Beyond the Threshold: Finch IV

A/N: This chapter contains some sexual content.

**Part B: Warcry**  
_Chapter 4: Beyond the Threshold_

**Finch**

_"Why do you insist on calling me "Finch?" I have a real name, you know."  
"Oh, I know. I call you "Finch" to remind you of the promise you made me. You're going to fight eagles for me, my friend."_  
-Finch Reynolds and Raidon Makoto

**_AMS Deathwing_, Fall City  
Fiore**

**It's all your fault, buddy. You dragged Raidon and all of Aqua into this mess. Some life debt, eh? The whole world is going to war because of you and it's just too god damn funny!** the demonic entity haunting Reynolds' dream taunted the soldier. The twin ghouls had been haunting Reynolds dreams for the past week—ever since a little before Harry Kim was assassinated.

**AhAHahaHahAHaHAha!** the second voice let out a crazed laughter in response to the first's indictment of Reynolds. Reynolds shut his ears. He didn't want to hear any more of the nightmare's taunts. _It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault!_ he thought. _I didn't kill Harry Kim! I was on the_ Deathwing_ when it happened! I saw it on the news as it happened! It couldn't have been me!_

Reynolds' thoughts then morphed into the voice of Reg Lando: "No, Finch, it wasn't your fault. I failed you. I failed Raidon. I failed my mission."

Leigh Reynolds awoke in a cold sweat. He had rolled over onto the hard, metal floor of the _Deathwing_ while he slept. He stood up, wiped the sweat from his forehead and neck onto his shirt and looked around the room. It was smaller than the average college dorm (and he had one of the larger rooms). The desk next to his bed had several books on the shelf, a laptop computer, and a photo of Reynolds' parents in the photo frame. He briefly contemplated putting _something_ on the walls to make the room more interesting, like band posters, but then decided that it would be too much effort for a room he barely used.

He put his head back onto the pillow and shut his eyes tight, hoping he could slip back into sleep. After twenty minutes passed, Reynolds was still awake. _Looks I'm up for the day._ He looked at his clock and saw the blaring red LCD digits: 4:32. At least it wasn't _unreasonably_ early. He awoke and dressed himself. He wasn't expecting combat today, so he put on a cut-off tee that said "Aqua Athletics" and a pair of sweat pants. _I suppose I can beat the crowd at the_ Deathwing_ gym this morning._.

He stumbled down the stairs and into the cafeteria where Raidon Makoto and a small group of soldiers were huddled around a table. Only the room's emergency lights were on—power had been cut to the room hours ago. Reynolds wasn't surprise to see Makoto there. The commander had been fighting a war on sleep as long as Reynolds had known him. Consistently, Makoto was the last to sleep and the first one to awake. As he fit it into his pseudo-philosophy: _"There's just so much of the world to see and experience, Finch, that I'd rather not spend a third of my life lying in the same spot."_

Reynolds had caught Makoto in the middle of a dirty story to the rest of the crew. "So there I am, her and I are going at it. We're in the middle of the act and I feel this sort of burning sensation. I just figured that I was on fire that night, so I kept at it. About ten or fifteen minutes later, it starts to hurt… like really bad. Like… have you ever been shot, Jennings?" Makoto asked the sniper next to him. Jennings shook his head yes. "It felt like that… but at least three times worse."

"So like getting shot three times?" one of the slower soldiers at the Commander's pow-wow asked.

"Yeah, sure Chuck, whatever. _Exactly_ like that," Makoto replied flippantly. "Anyways, I finish and what do you know, my tool looks like someone mistook it for sidewalk chalk and was ground into the asphalt. I look at the girl absolutely dumbfounded and it turns out that she left her freaking tampon in!" The soldiers around Makoto laughed uproariously at the crude joke. Reynolds rolled his eyes. Not only was it at least the sixth time he had heard that patently misogynistic story, but he knew for a fact that it wasn't true in the slightest. The Commander had read it in a book and decided to pretend it happened to him. He didn't have nearly as much "game" as he liked to say he had.

Peter Jennings looked at his watch, finished his beer, and said, "Well, gentlemen, it's about that time. It was an honor serving with you this evening." As groups are wont to do when one finally breaks the silence about the hour, they went their separate ways to their various dormitories. All but Raidon Makoto. He kept his _a_ss planted in the cafeteria seat.

Reynolds had raided the cafeteria and scrounged himself together a cold breakfast. He plopped his tray in front of Raidon and took the seat directly facing him. "Shouldn't you be going to bed too?" Reynolds asked with a mouthful of grapefruit.

"I'm not tired yet," Makoto said and cracked another beer open. He offered Reynolds a beer and was quickly rebuffed. "What about you? Why are you up?"

"I had a nightmare and couldn't fall back asleep. I figured I could just start my day a little early," Reynolds explained.

"Same one?" Makoto asked.

"Yeah."

"Rough. I promise you, this whole war business isn't your fault. I don't know why, but someone framed us. When I get to the bottom of it, they're going to be a greasy stain on the floor," Makoto promised. He punctuated it with a drunken hiccup. "The voices though… I don't know. Think they're like your conscience or something?"

"No… they're not mine. They're… evil. I just know that they're from somewhere worse than Hell," he described. "Though, Reg Lando keeps appearing in the dream too."

"You seem obsessed with this Lando guy. Every time we talk, it's "Reg this. Reg that." I'm drunk so I'm going to ask—what's the deal?" Makoto slurred, pointing his drink at Reynolds as he finished his thought. He finished the can and then crushed it under his boot.

"I don't know, man. He just… weirds me out for some reason. I don't know what it is about him," Reynolds explained. He finished the grapefruit and moved on to the sugary-mess that passed for "cereal" in the _Deathwing_ cafeteria. He was sure that if he ate this crap every morning moving forward he'd have diabetes by age 40.

"I'll tell you, Finch, maybe it's just solidarity, but I had a weird dream last night too," Makoto explained. Reynolds looked at him, opened his eyes, and mumbled with his mouth full to go on. "I'm in this dark room surrounded by fire. It just keeps getting hotter and hotter. After I take my jacket off and get comfortable, the hairs on the back of my neck prick up. I draw my two Katana and then this giant, four-winged bird swoops down and hovers above me. I stare at it almost in awe for a moment and then I wake up."

"Weird." They were both silent for a moment. Reynolds didn't really have anything to say in reply to Makoto's dream. He actually really wanted the conversation to end so he could go to the gym.

Makoto rose from his seat and stretched out. "I _suppose_ I should go catch some Zs… Yo, Finch, do you still have that crystal?" Reynolds dug through his pocket and pulled out the sparkling purple jewel fragment from his pocket. Just holding it now was enough to keep the constant headaches at bay, so Reynolds made sure he had it on his person at all times.

"Good. I think we should make a concerted effort to check in on the Hoenn government every now and again so we can find out what they're planning against us," the less-than-sober commander detailed. His eyes widened, as if he remembered something, and pivoted towards Reynolds on his left heel, sticking his pointer finger in the sober soldier's face. "Oh! Tomorrow (well, I guess it's today now) I have a meeting with Darman Fulier and Marlene Spiro in Fall City. We're either going to get fired or praised… I'm not sure yet. I'd like you to join us, since you're the toast of the town in the Sevii Islands right now."

Reynolds looked away, unhappy at that prospect. "Right…" After his sigh hung for a moment, Reynolds saluted and said, "Yes sir, Admiral Makoto, sir!"

For as much as he despised the commander for his foibles, he still owed the man a life debt. Raidon Makoto saved him from a life of slavery to the Hoenn disciplinary system and gave him the freedom he always craved. It was because of the commander's protection that Reynolds wasn't hanging in the gallows in Evergrande, both many years ago and now.

_I will fight your eagles for you, Raidon. You can count on me._

**Diet Building, Fall City  
Fiore**

Darman Fulier and Marlene Spiro were already seated at the head of the conference table. Makoto sauntered into the room first and took a load off in the decadently padded office chairs opposite the world leaders. Reynolds was much more conservative with his entrance. "Raidon Makoto, a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance," Spiro said to him.

"Back at you, Ms. Spiro," Makoto replied undiplomatically and shook her hand.

The two leaders focused their attention on Reynolds next. "Ah, and this is the Finch Reynolds we've heard so much about!" Reynolds glared at Makoto. _It seems like no one is going to call me by my real name,_ he thought. He shook Fulier and Spiro's hands.

"So did you do it?" Spiro asked Reynolds, a gleam of bloodlust in her eye. "Did you kill Harry Kim?"

"No!" Reynolds ejaculated, tired of the question. He then took a quick moment to recollect his composure and said, "No, I was framed."

"Pity. I'd love to meet the man that did it," Spiro whined.

"Regardless, the whole damn world thinks that you're to blame, and thus, Fiore is to blame. You know that Hoenn has declared war on Aqua PMC and Fiore by association?" Fulier asked, obviously stressed.

"Yeah, that's what I've heard," Makoto replied.

"I was this close to cutting our contract, Raidon. That was until Marlene here offered us more money than I had ever seen in foreign aid after the declaration of war. Despite my best judgment, it looks like we're going to war," Fulier sighed.

"We want to see Hoenn ground into the dirt," Spiro told the pair of mercenaries. "We understand that your militia is small right now, but the Sevii Islands Navy will happily stand by as support. The _SIN Pride_ and her fleet will be sortie to Fiore very soon."

"Well then… Aqua PMC stands ready to fight your war," Raidon Makoto declared.


	21. Beyond the Threshold: Neo IV

**Neo**

_"You need to fight on in my stead. You and Mike are the seeds of peace that I have sown. Do not lose heart. Do not lose will. But most importantly: don't lose your way. I see so much greatness in you Neo. I am honored to call you friend."_  
-Excerpt of a message left to Neo Winterfield in Harry Kim's will

**Barracks Basement, Evergrande City  
Hoenn**

Winterfield shifted over to laying on his left side. The right was becoming sore from laying on the thinly dispersed piles of hay that had been laid on the ground of the basement floor. The room was small (at least, for a Lugia), only thirty feet by thirty feet. The newborn legend could barely fit himself within its confines. Unfortunately, according to the Hoenn Corps of Engineers, it was the only room on the island that could accommodate him for now.

Originally, the room had been empty save for a television set. However, Winterfield had accidently knocked over the television set with his tail in the middle of a nightmare. He awoke laying in a pile of his own waste. There was no way for him to use a human bathroom anymore. It was after this incident that the Hoenn Corps had brought the hay into the room. He had become a god damn animal, just like DyneTech wanted. They just been unable to turn off his mind as the mad scientists had originally intended, cursing Neo Winterfield to this living hell.

The first piece of news he learned after he awoke from several days of being passed out (due to the injuries he sustained whilst razing Realgem Tower) was the triple assassination of Harry Kim, Hans Vehlstein, and his father. He couldn't tell which one hurt the most—his boss, his father, or his mentor? Combined with his less-than-human living conditions, Winterfield was trying hard to _not feel_. If he allowed himself to become truly numb, then these tragedies would be insignificant. Everything would be insignificant. He would become like a Buddhist monk and live life worshipping the zero. No ups or downs in life—only the constancy of suffering.

Mike Anone had been promoted to General of the Hoenn Army, the position that Harry Kim had been grooming Winterfield for prior to his death. Winterfield asked one of the Hoenn Corps members who checked on him periodically if he could see the new general, but he had yet to hear a response from Anone. Winterfield had more than a sneaking suspicion that his current state was the reason for Anone's promotion.

And then… there was Kate…

* * *

_Winterfield's fiancé was led into the dark, dank basement room by the two DARK agents assigned to Winterfield's protection. "Ms. Masters, I must warn you… Neo is very different. He was experimented on by DyneTech Labs and may not resemble anything he previously did," the agent attempted to warn the soldier's lover._

_"It doesn't matter. Love is more than just superficial looks," Masters said to the DARK agent. "It's about the hear—oh my God!" Masters stared at the Lugia cramped into the basement room. Her hand cupped over her mouth as the legend tried to stand but bumped his head against the sheetrock wall. He leaned back onto his backside and tail and used his wing to rub the bump on his head. "What the hell? Where's Neo?"_

_"Kate! You're a sight for sore eyes," the Lugia said. Winterfield had noticed that his vocal chords had become much stronger and more precise, allowing for the ability to speak flawlessly without lips. "They… uhh… they did a number on me in Orre. But I'm back. I'm here. We can work past this." Winterfield tried to muster a disarming smile but the look of shock had yet to evaporate from his fiancé's face._

_She stood there wide-eyed for another moment and then ran up the stairs sobbing._

* * *

Winterfield had found out later that day that Kate Masters had jumped from the top of Evergrande Falls and died on impact.

There was nothing left for him now. His mother had put in a request with DARK to see her son, but Winterfield told her to stay away. He couldn't have the only person he had left in the world seeing the state he was in. The Lugia was just content to lay there until the Reaper came for him and rot.

At least Liberty's Crusade had been successful. Shairii and Patrick were able to obtain a sample of the PHT virus amongst the ruins of Realgem Tower and brought it back to Hoenn for processing. According to Myron Asch, it was almost too late. The PHT Virus was airborne and spread via the winds. All of Kanto and Orre had been infected, with Johto, the Sevii Islands, and Almia only weeks from initial infection. According to top climatologists working at VRI, it would only be a few months before the viral winds hit Hoenn.

Regardless of the silver lining, his thoughts would often turn to those responsible for his misery: Dr. Massadar and Dr. Anderson who turned him into the monster and driving his fiancé away; Raidon Makoto and Finch Reynolds for killing all those close to him. He no longer dreamt of the angelic four-winged dragon with Harry Kim's voice. Now his dreams consisted solely of Makoto's and Reynolds' smug smiles and a sick {**demonic** **laugh****track**}. He had never even met these people before, yet they completely ruined his life.

Winterfield wondered what it would be like if he were a normal human and not a Lugia. Would the losses be easier to handle? He'd still have Kate, his rock. He could show his face to his remaining family. He would be General of the Hoenn Military and be able to avenge their deaths. He could only be entertained by this fantasy for so long until he remembered that he had become a pariah within the military and within society.

How could he expect to ever find love again? People who loved Pokemon romantically were treated as a sick joke by society, like pedophiles or incestual relationships. He had absolutely no hope. Despite the human inside, people were bound to ignore it for superficial reasons.

"You have a visitor," one of the DARK soldiers outside his pen said to him.

"I'm not interested," Winterfield groaned, motioning with wing as if he were shoving the stranger away.

"You don't have that option. Orders from the higher-ups," the soldier replied. _Has Mike finally come to visit me? No, it couldn't be him, or they'd say so. He **was** the higher-ups now, after all. It was probably some agent of Mike's, trying to square away some bullshi debrief or something._ Winterfield was surprised when he saw the petite form of Shairii Woldrac emerged from the stairwell. She took one of the folding chairs from the guards and brought it into the pen to sit down. As the pen's air hit her nostrils, she reeled her head back in repulsion for a moment before adjusting to the smell.

"Shairii? I haven't seen you since… Orre, come to think of it," Winterfield attempted to make conversation. Even though Liberty's Crusade's hit on Orre was only a few weeks ago, the sheer chasm in terms of life experiences between the soldiers in the past few weeks felt too divisive. To Winterfield, she almost felt like a stranger. _And I know for a fact that she thinks I'm a stranger too._

"What's wrong, Neo?" Woldrac began. "You used to be so determined and optimistic. Now you're just laying here, brooding."

"What's the point, Shai?" Winterfield drooped his long neck back onto a pile of hay behind him and closed his eyes, wishing it would all go away. "I've got nothing left. NOTHING."

"How do you think Harry felt after he escaped from the prison camp?" the veteran asked the legend. "He literally had nothing and no one. Yet he became the god damn president in only a year. The man was driven by more than just those around him, Neo. He did it for himself, he did it for the planet, and he did it for the species. You can't even muster the motivation to go outside." Woldrac spit on the ground next to her.

"And look where that put him—six feet under!" Winterfield told her. "That should be me! I was the fucking soldier! That was the deal we made! I'd die for him so he could save the world…" Tears began to well up in the corners of Winterfield's almond shaped eyes. "Where's the justice?"

"There is no justice!" Woldrac exclaimed. "If there was justice in this world Raidon Makoto would be hanging from the gallows in Evergrande, Harry Kim would still be president, and you'd be a human! But that's not how things are, Neo. We need to play with the cards we're dealt. Look at yourself, Neo, you're a god damn _Lugia_! You could be a fucking _god_ if you wanted to be. And you squander your potential… your _possibility_, wallowing down here." She paused, collecting her thoughts for a moment. "You know, Neo, there are poems that say that the unicorn is the 'beast of possibility.' But that's just not true, Neo. The beast of possibility is a Lugia."

The tears immediately stopped. Winterfield picked up his head and looked at Woldrac dumbfounded. She was entirely right. Winterfield was too busy wallowing in his self-pity to realize the _gift_ that had been given to him. Kim sowed the seeds of peace within him. It was time for the legend to reap what Harry Kim had sown. "You're right."

"Good!" Woldrac said, satisfied her reality check had gotten through to Winterfield. "Now that that's out of the way, we can talk about what I really want to talk about. In a few days, the _HAN Tidebreaker_ is going to sortie and attack the _Deathwing_. I've been asked to join the crew as the only surviving member of Liberty's Crusade not on assignment currently, but I'd like you to come with too."

"And do what?"

"Neo, my friend, Mike Anone is prepared to transfer myself, Patrick, and you to Hoenn's Special Forces unit," Shairii explained. "This is the same unit that was formed by Harry Kim, Jason Kiev, and BK during the Sevii Island Conflict. With BK apparently deeply undercover and Kiev investigating another Nasmar Temple right now, the three of us would completely take their place," Woldrac explained.

"Hell yes. Let's bring the hurt to Raidon Makoto," Winterfield howled.

"Excellent. Welcome to Operation Kim's Fury."


	22. Beyond the Threshold: Landon V

**Landon**

_"Based on samples from ground zero and cleaned-up footage from various media sources, we've discovered that (forgive me if this sounds a bit off the wall but) Harry Kim's assailant was a shapeshifter. Somehow, he was able to deconstruct and reconstruct his very body into some kind of… pink blob. Perhaps Aqua and DyneTech had a covert alliance? That would be the only way to explain Finch Reynolds' shapeshifting 'abilities.'"_  
-DARK Lab Technician to Liam Saki, Commander of DARK

**Evergrande City  
Hoenn**

Kaede wasn't returning his calls. She had betrayed him; left him truly alone in this world. Just like his parents did. Landon Torvald, leader and sole member of The New Order, now had nothing to return to and no one to fight for except himself. He needed to find out what Harry Kim knew about him and why he sent a man after him. How could the puppetmaster know about the Crystal he found in those ruins? He was sure to tell no one, not even Kaede. Kim must have seen him as a threat, even from the very beginning, and had him tailed. That was clearly the only explanation.

Torvald decided that the only way he would find his answer now would be to break into Kim's apartment and steal his notes. He had no doubt that it would be heavily guarded in light of his recent death, but Torvald was certain he would be able to enter undetected.

It was interesting to see that Kim's successors were blaming Aqua PMC for his assassination. He wondered how they could go from Kim's employ to heated enemies so fast. Perhaps Kim's long game was to use them as a proxy to initiate war on the Sevii Islands? To Torvald, that explanation made the most sense.

Assuming the form of a pedestrian, Torvald came onto the complex building that Harry Kim used to live at. He entered the building and asked to use the bathroom. The receptionist pointed him down the hall and to the left. Once guarded by the privacy of the less-than-clean restroom, Torvald dropped his form and slithered along the ground as a pink sludge. He forced himself through a grate and into the ventilation system. First, he would need to figure out exactly where Kim lived. He first break into the complex's office and review the leases on file to find Harry Kim's.

He oozed down from the vent above the executive office and assumed his default form, that of a pink humanoid. He inserted his goo into a nearby file cabinet's lock and broke it, unlocking the steel record holder. As he thumbed through files, an intrusive thought popped into his head: _what if Kaede betrayed me? It would explain her whoring around Aqua PMC. She could have been reporting on my activities the whole time and found the Crystal while I was sleeping. Yes… That makes sense. It would certainly be a long game for Kim, but he certainly had enough money and influence to make the closest person to him a turncoat. That would explain why the old man said that she was "only in it for the money."_

Under K, he pulled up Harry Kim's lease. Apartment 323. _Oh, poor Kaede. What if they coerced her into doing something? What if they threatened to kill me? What if she was doing this all for me, despite me?_

Torvald found himself in the ventilation system once again, pushing himself up the shafts for several yards. He popped out to check the room numbers around him. _Ah, 400s. One floor too far._ He rode the vents back down a little bit and emerged on the third floor.

_Regardless, if I'm estranged from Kaede, at least she's safe. Perhaps killing Kim was the best option. She no longer had someone coercing her and the ensuing war would destabilize all of Maridia's civil society. I may have killed two birds with one stone here._ Torvald found himself in a hallway and heard several guards at the end. He retreated back into the vents and found his way to the other side of the floor. Kim's apartment had to be over there.

He found himself in the middle of a stark, impeccably clean room. The only feature that delineated the room from the stock model was the litany of books and bookshelves stacked in every possible spot. Torvald was amazed by the amount of books. The entire apartment was functionally a library. Based on Kim's rather public worship at the altar of literature, Torvald was certain that this was Harry Kim's apartment.

If Kim had a diary, it wouldn't be something he so brazenly kept in his living room. Torvald wandered around the apartment, looking for a study or an office of some sorts. He imagined Kim had to bring his work home with him. An oak desk stood in the middle of an uncharacteristically messy room. _Paydirt_, Torvald thought. He rifled through the desk, trying to find some kind of set of notes. Nothing was in Kim's handwriting – it was all political philosophy or great speeches.

Frustrated, Torvald kicked the oak desk over. The bottom of the desk fell out, revealing a red leather-bound notebook. Torvald hungrily picked up the book and flipped through all the pages, attempting to absorb the entire tome's contents in one go. What surprised him was that he couldn't. It was certainly handwritten, but it was in an entirely different language. In fact… _This looks just like the symbols in the temple I found the Crystal in!_

That would explain how Kim knew about the Crystal he had. Kim was privy to the secret of the Crystals. Perhaps he was trying to track down the power of the Crystals for himself?

Near the end of the book was full-page illustration of some kind of creature. It looked like a bony corpse, reinforced by a twisted dark armor. It had fangs and matted spindly hair that protruded from its demonic, helmet-like skull. The spindly sinew that composed the beast's arms and legs ended in massive red claws, dripping in blod.

"I heard a noise!" one of the guards shouted. The door to the room flung open and the anarchist was face-to-face with two DARK soldiers, semi-automatic rifles in hand. The soldiers opened fire. Torvalds slammed the book closed, absorbing it into his body, and threw himself into the nearby window, shattering the glass and diving blob-first to the ground. The crystal shards of glass covered the ground like sleet, as Torvald, now too distracted to maintain any form other than his default, pink humanoid state, ran from Hoenn soldiers now pursuing him.


	23. Beyond the Threshold: Mike III

**Mike**

_"Mr. Barkley, I know that you have been treasonously supplying DyneTech with information about Hoenn's military movements."  
"What can I do to make this go away?"  
"I want your absolute, unquestioning loyalty."_  
-Secretary Norb Whitehall to The Honorable Orson Barkley

**Evergrande City  
Hoenn**

When it was reported that there was a break-in at Harry Kim's apartment, General Anone grabbed his coat and personally saw to a sortie of his best soldiers to track down the burglar. No looter was going to graverob from Harry Kim on Mike Anone's watch. With few on the roads during the dead of night, the police van carrying Anone, Patrick Costello, and ten additional DARK commandos roared down the streets responding to the All Points Bulletin from the governmental complex Harry Kim once lived in. Anone was impressed that he could get DARK to respond as quick as they did in the dead of night.

"All units, be advised. The target is some kind of shapeshifter, likely the same one that assassinated Harry Kim," one of the DARK soldiers at the scene said into the radio.

When the sound of the words emanating from the radio was processed by his eardrum and converted into meaning by his auditory cortex, Anone grabbed the radio as quickly as he could. He began to feel a headache boring its way deep into his skull. _Did I just give myself an aneurysm?_ Anone wondered as he prepared to yell into the radio. "This is General Mike Anone of the Hoenn Military. The situation is being raised from a Code Red to a Code Black. All units on the island are ordered to pursue the target. This scumbag is going down."

A virtual map of the city on Anone's smartphone had been updated with the last known position of the pink blob that had broken into Kim's apartment. Using the Sapiento Network, DARK was able to tap into every security camera and recording device on the island. The result was seamless, up-to-the-second reports on the position of Kim's assailant. The neophyte general furrowed his brows and angrily named the assassin under his breath, "Finch Reynolds."

The van left turn so hard that some of the soldiers bounced from one side to another. Patrick Costello had managed to stay in place by holding onto the crash webbing in the back of the van for dear life. Using the locational map, Anone commanded several other vehicles to take different positions circuitous to the rogue shapeshifter in hopes of trapping it in an alley on Iguana Street. Once the target looked as if he was going to fall for Anone's trap, the general gave the order to pull up to the alley and block off the other end. He could feel the pin pricks of anxiety nattering at his chest. Anone now had to trust in the success of his own gambit.

The team unloaded from Anone's van on one side of the alley. Once they emerged, they saw that another van and DARK team was blocking off the other side of the alley. Several helicopters and soldiers with flying Pokemon patrolled the skies with giant searchlights, bathing a square mile radius in a light brighter than the sun. Shairii Woldrac flew down from one of the helicopters riding her trusty Scyther, Shiko. The green lizard-bug let Woldrac off and sharpened its two sword-like claws against each other, excited to take a stab at the target.

At a cursory glance, there was nothing between the two squads save for trash bins and rubbish piles. A flashlight was pointed at one of the dumpster and Shiko went over to flip it over. The pink blob jumped up from the dumpster like a spider from behind a bookshelf and enveloped Shiko's face. Shiko clawed at its face in order to cut through the foreign substance and breathe. The blob was formidable and reshaped at each point that it had been cut.

"Shiko!" Woldrac cried. She ran over to the Pokemon and tried to pull the solution off its face. Every soldier's flashlight was pointed at the two, blinding Woldrac and enraging Shiko. Shiko's face bled from the self-inflicted injuries profusely until it finally passed out from a combination of blood loss and asphyxiation. The blob, thinking its prey was dead, leapt away behind another dumpster.

Anone had an idea. "Alright, someone give me their flask." The soldiers looked at each other and then at their commanding officer sheepishly. Drinking on duty was an offense punishable by court martial. No one would be caught dead with a flash on them. Anone looked at them expectantly and reaffirmed his position, "Come on. Cough it up. I promise I'll overlook it just this once."

Patrick Costello sighed and dug into his coat pocket, retrieving a silver flask. He handed over the half-full container to Anone and said, "I hardly think now's the time."

Anone ripped off a piece of his uniform and shoved it down the flask's lip. He then grabbed his Zippo lighter and set the makeshift fuse ablaze. After ensuring that Woldrac had dragged herself and Shiko to safety, he hurled the Molotov Cocktail behind the garbage can. The flask exploded, setting a good chunk of the alley ablaze. Anone put his hand over his face to protect it from the heat and watched the pink blob emerge from the dumpster entirely ablaze. The shapeshifter was _freaking the fuck out_ trying to find some way to put itself out, but to no avail. The blob transformed into as many things as it could think of. At one point, it even assumed the form of Harry Kim himself. After a few tense minutes (with more guns than the _HAN Tidebreaker_ had pointed at the creature), it finally stopped moving, finally succumbing to the flames.

Patrick Costello's mouth was agape in surprise. Anone looked at him and said "What? It's not like you can shapeshift your way out of burning to death."

The soldiers then began to clap for Anone. He had slain the beast that killed Harry Kim. _Finch Reynolds is dead. God, I hope they'll let me collect the bounty,_ Anone thought.

* * *

**Capitol Building, Evergrande City  
Hoenn**

"So it looks like you killed Aqua PMC's first officer," President Frisby congratulated Anone at the next meeting of the Hoenn Council. "However, this isn't going to stymie the war. They still have a rather powerful aircraft carrier at their disposal and funding from both Fiore and the Sevii Islands."

"And if their first officer was… whatever abomination that so blighted Arceus' green earth… I bet you that DyneTech had a hand in it as well," Norb Whitehall pontificated. "Gentleman, I think this was a grand conspiracy against Harry Kim from the very start. We, as the inheritors of Harry Kim's legacy, cannot allow this to stand! We must wipe out Aqua!"

A hearty "here, here" came from all those around the table, save Krad, Carnegie, and Anone.

"Norb, will you share the details of Operation Kim's Fury?" Frisby asked his yes-man.

The old man replied, "I'd be glad to. The _HAN Tidebreaker_ will sortie from Slateport City tomorrow at 0800 hours and head northwest toward Fiore and engage the _AMS Deathwing_. On board the _Tidebreaker_ will be two members of Hoenn's new Special Forces unit as has been established by General Anone. Those two members are Shairii Woldrac and the legendary Lugia himself Neo Winterfield."

The table erupted into erratic conversation once Whitehall namedropped the enlisted legend. "Secretary Whitehall, is Winterfield in any condition to fight? And do we even know if we can trust him?"

"Yes and yes," Anone reported dutifully. _If I can't stop the war, I can at least help out Neo._ "Shairii Woldrac and Patrick Costello vetted him themselves. Not only is Neo perfectly healthy, but he is in peak fighting condition. We fully expect take advantage of his legendary powers to swiftly sink the _Deathwing_."

"Excellent. The next order of business is to approve this year's defense budget," Whitehall transitioned. "Orson Barkley took the charge and ensured it passed through Parliament no problem. All that's left is a vote by the Council and the budget is ratified." _That's weird. Barkley cooperating with defense spending? What happened to him?_ Anone had flipped through the report. Besides increasing the budget in all sectors, the R&D team formerly assigned to the Daisi Voyager was being reappropriated to work on a new orbital weapon called the Gullcannon. The Gullcannon, as planned, was able to fire an incredibly powerful Superlaser from space to anywhere on Maridia's surface with only an hour's notice. However, due to the solar battery, it took a week for the satellite to recharge in between bursts of energy.

The second, and far more interesting, pork barrel project was Ultima City, spearheaded by Bron Krad. Krad hoped to create the ultimate fortress. It would be a city operated on an experimental basis by DARK. Surrounded by 100-foot thick lead walls, its own air & water purification system, its own food sources, and a centrally planned civilian community for soldiers' families, Ultima stood to be more than just a weapon. The lead ball of Ultima City was proposed to float on Hoenn's shores, serving as a mobile command and governmental center. It also contained a ridiculously large arsenal of weapons, enabling it to defend the homeland in the event of an invasion. It was a mobile super defense fortress and utopic community wrapped into one. As Bron Krad put it, "It will be El-Dorado. Harry Kim's vision will be fully realized with Ultima City." With Kim's name attached to the project, it was impossible to vote against it.

With the defense budget passed unanimously, Bron Krad brought forward one more item of business. "The Hoenn Council received this distress signal several hours ago. Once you hear it, you'll understand why this is of Code Red importance."

Krad tapped a few buttons at the console in front of him. The speakers in the room crackled as the voice of a middle-aged woman filled the room. Panicked, she quickly said, "This is Dr. Heather Fisher of the Morgan Company. I am under heavy fire at Meteor Falls after undertaking an independent research mission to find a Crystal of Power our team believed to be located in Hoenn. Please send assistance immediately. OH GOD!" The message fizzled out.

All eyes on the room fell on Mike Anone. "I will put my top available men on the mission." Anone then grabbed his phone and called Patrick Costello…

* * *

**Scoreboard**  
_**Hoenn Council** - 1 Points  
**Aqua PMC** - 0 Points  
**The New Order** - 1 Point **[ELIMINATED]**  
**Cult of Ketsuban** - 0 Points  
**[LOCKED]**  
**[LOCKED]**  
**[LOCKED]**  
**[LOCKED]**  
**[LOCKED]**_


	24. Beyond the Threshold: Patrick I

**Patrick**

_"Please, Richard, just stop touching the god damn Crystal."_  
-Harry Kim to Richard Morgan shortly before Pahaa Kirvestä's assassination

**Meteor Falls  
Hoenn**

Patrick Costello was getting too old for this shit.

45 was on the upper-end of soldiers that still see action in the field. His commanders continued to insist that "age hadn't slowed him down one bit," but Costello could feel it. The microsecond longer reaction time, the few seconds less he could run, and the random aches and pains consistent with aging were all present. In fact, Costello even got his first gray hairs only a few years ago. He was surprised his body had held out for so long (he did take meticulous care of himself). _For Chrissakes, I'm older than Bron Krad. I should be sitting in some cushy desk at Evergrande counting the days until my pension._

Unfortunately, Costello did not find himself behind a cushy desk in a climate-controlled office in the Capitol Building, but instead hunched over in a cave, hiding behind a stalagmite. His mission was to infiltrate Meteor Falls, track down Dr. Heather Fisher and the Crystal she claimed was here and get out before any harm could come to either. General Anone had furnished him with a containment unit for the Crystal. As he had warned, "It's not safe to touch."

The old soldier had the option of storming the Falls with a team of men under his command, but that wasn't his style. Infiltration and espionage were the name of the game for him. Before the Sevii Islands Conflict, he had served as a reconnaissance agent for DARK. However, the war called for experienced soldiers to step up to the plate of command and Costello heeded the call. He was put in charge of the 561st Division and was fortunate enough to meet Neo Winterfield during the conflict because of it. He never begrudged having to work with others, but he much preferred to work alone.

For Costello, it was certainly ironic to be put onto Hoenn's Special Forces division. Of its three founding members, BK was briefly one of his students. To replace one of his students was certainly weird for him, but Costello knew that there was no beating the classics. To Costello, BK was, on one hand, a lucky bastard. He answered directly to Harry Kim and no other. Because of this, he was able to sortie as he pleased. On the other, he had a constant desire to punch the arrogant grin off of his face. Costello liked to refer to him as the "Chesire Cunt." The only time he had seen him without his trademark smirk was at Harry Kim's funeral when he served as Kim's fourth pallbearer.

Costello flipped down his night-vision goggles and took a look out into the cave's chamber. It was pitch black. Several Zubat slept on the top of the cave as the sound of the titular waterfall hummed in the background. He flipped out his smartphone and accessed the Sapiento Network, pulling up a detailed map of Meteor Falls' many winding caves and then attempted to triangulate the origin of the original radio message. Radio waves were an inexact science. The range was way too large for Costello's liking, covering several pathways. _However, if it were too easy they'd replace me for someone half my age,_ the agent reassured himself.

He ascended the rock face in front of him careful to not make noise as he climbed. Once he reached the top, he gingerly walked down the first cave opening, gun drawn and hunched over. He heard a noise behind him and turned around quickly, aligning the laser-sight on the gun with the sound's origin. Once he realized that it was only a wild Rattata, he dropped the gun and did his best to calm his nerves. No matter how much he reassured himself, the initial startle didn't just go away. He was now on edge.

The pathway led him into another anteroom of sorts. It had an expansive area and was bisected by a river that was a feeder for the Falls. Costello crouched down and zoomed in his night-vision goggles to look at the maze of stalagmites. He saw one human body hiding in between two pillars of rock. It was difficult to tell his or her sex because he or she was huddled into a ball. He then moved his head around the room to see if he could find anyone else. There was one more person who was brazenly walking through the labyrinth. _Is that a mullet?_ Costello wondered. He zoomed in closer. Despite the grain, a gun was clearly identifiable in the mullet-man's hands. If he had to guess, the person that was hiding was Heather Fisher.

Lacking a rifle with the kind of range needed to take the aggressor out in a single shot, Costello went for the next best option. He carefully climbed down the rock face, careful to not dislodge any stones. Just as he reached the bottom, he slipped. He landed straight on his ass and caught several falling stones of decent size with his stomach. Luckily, he was able to muffle the sound despite the pain. He focused in on the form of Dr. Fisher and drew a plan of attack on his smartphone using the Sapiento Network. _Now's time for the cool part._ Costello grabbed a small iron ball from one of his pouches and pressed the red button. He hurled it into the air and it silently dissolved into millions of pieces. The dust from the iron ball rained across the entire anteroom. Each particle was a miniature sound, light, and heat detector connected to the Sapiento Network. The main server would be able to discern anything alive in the room, what species it was, and where it was up to the second. _I'm living in an excellent time to be alive._

He crawled across the labyrinth at a snail's pace, hoping to not alert the mullet-man hunting Dr. Fisher. Following the lines he drew on Sapiento's map, he honed in on the heat signature of Dr. Fisher. He kept the movement of the other individual in the corner of his eye, ready to take emergency action if necessary.

He reached Dr. Fisher within ten minutes. He snuck up on her, put his hand over her mouth and said "Shh… I'm Patrick Costello from Hoenn Special Forces. Don't make a sound – I'm here to get you out."

He let go of her mouth and slowly dropped his hand. The scientist looked at Costello, saw the Hoenn military patch on his left shoulder, and nodded.

"Where is the Crystal?" Costello asked. He grabbed the containment unit that Anone had given him. Fisher immediately handed over the Crystal like it was a hot potato. When Costello grabbed it with his gloved hand, he suddenly felt a lot better. His stomach and ass no longer hurt. In fact, the aches and pains in his knees and lower back immediately disappeared. Wisely deciding to not get greedy, he dropped the Crystal into the lead tube and put it into another pouch.

Just as Costello was ready to give Fisher further directions, he felt a pistol butt on the back of his head. It wasn't hard enough to knock him out, but it smarted. He stood up and knocked the mullet-man across the jaw. "Who the hell is this?"

"That's my husband, Richard Morgan," Dr. Fisher said.

* * *

**Crystals of Power**  
_**Crystal of Vision** - Aqua PMC [Kanto]  
**LOCKED** [Johto]  
**Crystal of Life** - Hoenn Council [Hoenn]  
**Crystal of Weather** - Hoenn Council [Sevii Islands]  
**Crystal of Energy** - Hoenn Council [Orre]  
**LOCKED** [Fiore]  
**LOCKED** [?] _


	25. A Vile Blaze of Glory: Finch V

_Chapter 4: A Vile Blaze of Glory_

**Finch**  
Battle of the _Tidebreaker_ Part1

_"**Crystal of Vision**—The Crystal of Vision allows the user to see anything in the world as long as the user knows what to look for in the first place (Just the name of a place, person, or event will do). It will also allow the user to see the area as if the user was actually there, with full audio, visual, and feeling, though no harm will come to the user. However, the user cannot interact with what they're seeing. Think of it as the ultimate surveillance camera."_  
-Excerpt from Harry Kim's Diary, translated from its original Nasmar inscription

**_AMS Deathwing_  
High Seas**

The Crystal of Vision was a handy tool. Because of it, Aqua had been unknowingly present every step of the way in planning Operation Kim's Fury. Every meeting of the Hoenn Council had an invisible additional member, safe within the confines of the [i]Deathwing]/i]: Leigh Reynolds. He was there when they decided to add a Lugia to the team and when the battleship _Tidebreaker_ took off from the Slateport Docks. What he had found to be strange, however, was when the Council held a meeting to celebrate the death of "Finch Reynolds." First he was blamed by them for the death of Harry Kim and now he was being touted by the Hoenn Council to be deceased. To Reynolds, the only explanation for this was that the person who had initially framed Reynolds was tracked down and killed. Despite being a member of the "walking dead," Reynolds was relieved at the news. No one could tarnish what was left of his good name any more.

Regardless, the _Tidebreaker_ was headed to Fiore to meet the _Deathwing_ in combat. Raidon Makoto decided to head them off in the middle of the ocean in order to prevent casualties in the Fiore mainland and to get the jump on the Hoenn Allegiance Navy ship. As such, the _Deathwing_ was sailing full speed ahead to meet with the _Tidebreaker_.

Makoto sat in the Captain's Chair in the Navigations Room, gripping the cushioned armrests. This would be first blood for his precious ship, and as much as he didn't want to admit it, Makoto knew that he had no experience as a naval commander. Whoever was commanding the _Tidebreaker_ would likely have more experience than him by a magnitude of _years_. To the rest of the crew, Makoto seemed confident and calm. It was only because Reynolds had known him for so long that he could see Makoto's underlying nervousness.

One of the navigations crew members said, "_HAN Tidebreaker_ is just ahead. They know we're coming."

"Fantastic!" Makoto replied. He stood up and pointed his katana straight ahead. "Prepare all cannons and fire on my command." The _Tidebreaker_ quickly appeared on the horizon. Once it was confirmed that the cannons were prepped and aimed, Makoto yelled, "FIRE!" The entire ship reeled from the force of the blasts. The shells from the _Deathwing_'s main cannons impacted the _Tidebreaker_. Smoke was visible from the ship's bow.

The _Tidebreaker_ initially did not reply. For a moment, Makoto had thought he had killed their commander. However, only a moment later, the entire ship rocked back and forth. Reynolds went tumbling over the guardrail onto the lower floor of the Navigations Room. "Damage on the starboard side of the ship! We're starting to take in water. We cannot take another hit like that!" one of the crewmen yelled.

"What the hell was that?" he yelled at Makoto.

"That was a railgun," Tyrus Hale said over the radio. "Would this be an appropriate time to say "you magnificent bastard! I read your book!"? Well… research paper…" the scientist paused for a moment realizing the reference to _Patton_ was lost on the commander. "I read the paper published by the Hoenn Corps of Engineers a few years ago about a railgun and its uses. I didn't think for a moment that they had equipped the _Tidebreaker_ with it though."

"How long do we have until they can fire again, Tiantus?" Makoto yelled over the radio.

"The railgun takes a significant amount of energy to fire. If they only have a nuclear fission battery on there, it would take at least 20 minutes to prepare another salvo. That's, of course, if they don't move forward," Hale replied.

Makoto stroked his chin, "So they're sitting ducks for 20 minutes?" He paused for a moment. "Take the _Deathwing_ up next to the _Tidebreaker_. We're going to board." _Not a bad move, Raidon,_ Reynolds thought. _If you keep the_ Deathwing_ close to the_ Tidebreaker_, neither of you can fire on each other. It also plays to Aqua's strength: the footsoldier._

The _Deathwing_ brought itself up right next to the _Tidebreaker_. The cannon fire stopped on both ends and the boarding parties started crossing ships. As Reynolds was prepping his boarding party for attack, Makoto received a message from one of the crewmen. "Sir, something is attacking the _Deathwing_'s engines from below." The crewman brought up the underwater cameras on the _Deathwing_'s hull to get a visual on the thing damaging its hull. "That looks like the Lugia we were expecting."

Makoto shot up from his chair. "I'ma kill it!" he excitedly announced. "Jennings, come with me. Grab a net gun."

"We don't have any net guns, sir," Peter Jennings replied.

"Then first tell Tiantus to make us some net guns and _then_ grab a _harpoon gun_ and come on!" Makoto rushed the sniper out of the Navigations Room. This left Reynolds alone with Reg Lando. Reynolds stared down the old geezer a moment, trying to assess what it exactly was about Lando that bothered him. The migraine that the Crystal kept at bay returned with great force as he looked at him.

"Something wrong Captain Finch?" he asked.

"Why do you call me that?" Reynolds replied. "Only Raidon calls me that. Raidon… and you."

"I was… told that's what you prefer to be called," Lando replied earnestly. _It couldn't have been Ty that told him that. He would have told me if he did. Was it another soldier?_

"Tell me, Reg, do you know how I acquired the name "Finch?"" Reynolds asked.

"You picked it yourself, did you not?"

"No. That couldn't be further from the truth. Raidon thrust it upon me. He owns my life, which means he owns my name too," Reynolds explained. "_I will fight eagles for him._ That was my promise. And so he gave me the name Finch."

"Would you prefer I call you Captain Reynolds then?" Lando asked.

"Immensely," Reynolds said. Reynolds and Lando exited the Navigations Room and went onto the _Deathwing_'s tarmac, where the final boarding party was assembling. This was Reynolds' party. He would lead them to take the _Tidebreaker_'s bridge while the other teams secured other valuable parts of the ship and put down any possible resistance. The sounds of gunshots were carried almost effortlessly by the air like the songs of the mockingbird. Gunpowder, smoke, and sweat filled Reynolds' nostrils. _**This**… is combat._

There was only a few foot gap between the decks of the ships. Reynolds was the first to jump the gap. His men followed him onto the deck. Looking up, he followed the radio towers on the battleship's deck towards their origin: a cabin on the other side of the ship.

An explosion rocked the _Tidebreaker_ knocking Aqua's first officer forward. He looked up to see a cloud of smoke billowing from the back battery of cannons. Frank Bueller and his demolitions squad had been assigned to immobilize the _Tidebreaker_'s cannons in the event that the _Deathwing_ needed to make a quick escape. Tyrus Hale had requested that the railgun only be destroyed as a last resort—he wanted to get his mitts on a working railgun for Project ZEPHYR.

The party advanced forward and was ambushed by a few soldiers hiding behind a cargo barrel. Reynolds felt the barrel of a gun pointed at the back of his head. "Alright, scum, drop your weapons."

Reg Lando was the first to put down his gun, almost enthusiastically. As he got up, in one swift motion, he unsheathed his Dao blade and stabbed it straight through the soldier threatening Reynolds. He looked at the other two enemy soldiers in the group and barked "You drop your weapons." It seemed to Reynolds as if Lando's eyes flashed purple for a moment as he gave the order. It was, of course, an empty threat. Reynolds never expected…

The soldiers dropped their weapons.

Reynolds was amazed. Why would they do that? They could have easily killed Lando and himself. Perplexed but unabated, Reynolds pointed his Mk. 22 at the two unarmed soldiers and knocked each of them out with a tranquilizer dart. Another member of his squad, Miles Kieron, asked "Why not take them out? If they wake up, they could threaten us once again."

"Not my style," Reynolds replied. He holstered the tranquilizer gun and then took cover near the metal stairs to the Bridge. Several snipers were posted on the Bridge's deck picking off random Aqua soldiers on the surface of the _Tidebreaker_. "Alright troops, new mission: take out the snipers before they take out our comrades."

Kieron removed the pin from a grenade with his teeth and tossed it at the gaggle of busy snipers. Naturally, they heard the explosive rattle against the metal ground and kicked it back at Reynolds' squad. "Miles, you idiot," Lando mumbled. "Take cover!" he ordered immediately thereafter. _Why is Reg giving orders?_ Reynolds wondered, disenfranchised with his subordinate's behavior. Regardless, he had said exactly what Reynolds was planning on saying a half a second earlier. At this point, there was no reason to recover already covered ground.

Reynolds dove behind a barrel, grabbing Kieron and another soldier. Lando made sure the other soldiers got to safety. The grenade popped, causing Reynolds' ears to ring. He put his hand up to the earlobe and noticed some blood. _That's annoying_, he thought. A bullet whizzed past his cheek and buried itself into the barrel behind Reynolds. _Great, now the snipers know where we are._

He tapped the radio piece in his good ear and said, "Lando, you're closer to the Bridge's deck. Can you take the shot?"

"On it, sir," he said. A few seconds later, one of the snipers' heads exploded like a piñata. The others with him were immediately startled and took cover.

"Alright, now rush the deck!" Reynolds ordered. Reynolds' squad charged their way up the stairs. The snipers, whose rifles' sights had been calibrated to fire at a great distance, were put in a tight fix. They attempted to no-scope the invading Aqua soldiers with their rifles, but they were remarkably inaccurate. It wasn't until they had a point blank shot at one of Reynolds' soldiers that he took the shot. Reynolds jumped over said recently deceased Aqua and pushed the Hoenn sniper over the edge of the Bridge's deck. Lando and Kieron took down the other two snipers shortly afterwards.

The vice-admiral dusted himself off and threw open the door to the Bridge. The Captain of the ship sat on a chair in the middle, protected by several crewman, a female officer, and her Scyther. "Nope," Reynolds said, slamming the door as quickly as he opened it. He dived to the side as the door immediately filled with bullet holes. He grabbed a smoke grenade from his belt and showed it to his remaining squadmates, implying that they would breach after it set off. He pushed open the door gently and threw the grenade inside. A loud _POP_ was heard as the squad rushed in guns-a-blazing. Reynolds tagged the Captain with his Mk. 22 whilst Kieron and Lando took out several guards.

The Scyther started to flap its wings and clear out the smoke. The woman, who had the name "Woldrac" sewn above her right uniform pocket, opened fire at Reynolds. Reynolds dived to the ground, but he took at least four gunshot wounds to the upper body. _Smooth, Leigh. Now I'm going to bleed to death. I'm a big goddam hero, aren't I?_ His chest began to hurt like the devil as he tripped Woldrac and tossed her rifle to the side. The Scyther tried to bring its blade-arm down execution style onto Reynolds' neck, but it stopped just in the nick of time by Lando's Dao blade.

"You're not dying on my watch," he said. Surprised but not immobilized, Reynolds kicked the fallen Woldrac in the face with the steel toe of his boot. The Scyther tried as hard as he could to protect its master, but Lando was successful in distracting the loyal Pokemon. Woldrac reached to her left to grab her sidearm, but Reynolds was too quick for her. He shot her in the neck with his Mk. 22, knocking her out.

He wasn't capable of any more—he'd lost too much blood. Reynolds' vision started to darken in the corners. The tunnel-vision tightened its grip on the bleeding officer quickly until finally Reynolds could see no more.


	26. A Vile Blaze of Glory: Neo V

**Neo**  
Battle of the _Tidebreaker_ Part 2

_"Kieron, take Finch back to the_ Deathwing_'s Med Bay. He's banged up pretty bad. Bueller, take those from the_ Tidebreaker_'s crew that have surrendered and cast them off in the life boats with their injured and their dead. The last thing we need right now is POWs."_  
-Reg Lando

**_AMS Deathwing_  
Underwater**

Winterfield's mission was simple: sneak under the _Deathwing_ and raise holy hell, sinking it from below. He was ostensibly a one-legend-submarine, but instead of torpedoes he had a plethora of new legendary powers he was eager to finally try in action. Once he made it to what he thought was the engine room (based on the humming), Winterfield crossed his two white wings over his chest and began to focus. His eyes glowed blue and finally he thrust his two arms forward, launching a mighty Aeroblast at the hull of the _Deathwing_. The ship rocked back and forth as the humming stopped.

"Bingo," he said to himself. He charged another Aeroblast and hurled it at the ship, ripping its hull open. A few soldiers fell out as water started to slowly equalize with the inside of the stolen aircraft carrier. Just as Winterfield was reveling in his victory, he felt something sharp stab him in the back. He adjusted his neck to look at it and saw that there was a harpoon sticking out of his flap. He tried to grab the foreign object and pull it out, but his wing-arms did not offer him the kind of flexibility that human arms did. "What the hell…?"

A Starmie hybrid swam up in front of him wearing a bandana, black tank top, and dive pants, exposing the musculature of his body. In his left hand he brandished a harpoon gun and in his right another harpoon. "I'm sorry, Neo, but I can't let you do that to my ship."

"You know my name?" Winterfield bleated.

The man smiled. "Well, yeah, duh. We've pretty much known everything about this mission from the start. Our spies are _very_ thorough." He loaded the second harpoon in the gun and shot it at the legend, wounding his wing. "Raidon Makoto, pleased to make your acquaintance." Another harpoon pierced Winterfield's back. The legend howled in pain. Memories of his father and of Harry Kim filled his head. With each pang from the harpoon, Winterfield saw the footage from the Rustboro bombing play over and over in his head. As Kim reached to the sky to touch the face of Arceus in a final act of optimism, Winterfield outstretched his wing to wring Makoto's neck.

A much less distracted Raidon Makoto easily avoided the grab. Another harpoon tagged Winterfield in the back. _I'm never going to win if its two against one._ The legend flexed all the muscles in his body and physically rejected the two harpoons from his back. It was tough work and filled the water around him with gallons of blood, but he was able to manage.

"RAIDON MAKOTO!" Winterfield's eyes started to glow again. He focused his mind on Makoto's body and unleashed a cannon of psychic energy at the mercenary. "PSYCHO BOOST!" Makoto was struck by the energy—_hard_—and flung against the hull of his ship. The metal around him was sheared through with the psychic energy. Winterfield had broken Makoto's calm demeanor. The degenerate's face had contorted to a far angrier expression. Winterfield took this moment to strike him with his tail. Makoto dodged. "WHY DID YOU DO IT, MAKOTO? WHY DID YOU KILL HARRY KIM? WHY DID YOU KILL MY FATHER?"

Makoto grabbed a knife from a holster on his boot and plunged it into Winterfield's neck, missing the jugular. Winterfield roared and attempted to bite off the mercenary's head to end it quickly. Makoto, however, was quicker. In an instant, his katana blade had been drawn and held up. The Lugia's teeth clashed with the blade—enamel vs. steel. The sword was particularly strong, both in composition and grip from Makoto. It was enough to stymie Winterfield's attempt to eat his enemy. The look of focus on the mercenary's face was obvious. To Makoto, there was only the two of them. It was almost as if he had phased the _Deathwing_ and _Tidebreaker_ out of mind.

Another harpoon shot came over an undersea hill straight for Winterfield. Makoto grabbed the harpoon by the shaft mid-water and commanded into his earpiece, "This one is mine."

Winterfield took the moment of distraction as a time to strike, giving Makoto no slack despite briefly preventing him further harm. He charged another Aeroblast and fired it at Makoto. Makoto took the full force of the attack, screaming almost in ecstasy. "Yes! This is rapture of combat. Can you feel it, Neo?" A smile had returned to the mercenary's face, but instead of the confident and saccharine smile that was full of bravado he sported before, Makoto was reveling in bloodlust. The mercenary was baring his fangs.

"This is how you get off?" Winterfield replied, confused. Makoto attempted to stab Winterfield through the chest with the sword, but Winterfield rammed him in the stomach with his tail before the metal could make contact with his skin, knocking him back. That _had_ to have cracked several ribs. "You're a sick fuck, you know that?"

"This is what it means to be alive!" almost as if he was controlling the water around him, the mercenary thrust himself forward at a high speed and slashed Winterfield straight across the chest in an X-formation. _He's taking full advantage of being a Starmie hybrid,_ Winterfield thought. Unable to touch Makoto due to how close he was, Makoto stabbed Winterfield again, this time straight through the gut and out the other side. Winterfield wailed in pain. "When it's just you and me here, Neo, fighting for our very _lives_, it's almost enough possible to forget that we're both just pawns being used to fight someone else's war." He pulled the blade from Winterfield's belly and brought his mouth up to Winterfield's ear. He whispered: "I didn't kill Harry Kim."

"LIAR!" Winterfield focused the water around him for a Hydro Pump attack, shooting Makoto off of him at a high velocity. Using all of his extremities—arms, leg, neck, and tail—the enraged Winterfield attempted to _hurt_ Makoto. The Dragon Rush attack was intended to pound the murderer into the dust.

Winterfield, however, was angry. Makoto had achieved a sense of battle-serenity. Each blow was dodged almost effortlessly by the mercenary. Sensing the advantage, Makoto replied, "You know that people shit themselves when they die? Not something you read about in the storybooks when a hero dies a glorious death. Trust me, though, I know. I've been in the business of killing since before you even understood the _concept_ of death. You know what? I'm sure Harry-kins and daddy-dearest were full of shit when they died! I feel bad for the poor mortuary that had to change their pants."

"DON'T YOU DARE—" Winterfield began.

Makoto punched him across the face, "Dare what? Speak ill of the dead? I'll do as I please." He balled his two hands together and brought them down onto Winterfield's forehead hard. The mercenary then followed it up with a knee to the chin and a slash at the nose. Winterfield was losing blood _fast_. Makoto paused and put his finger to his ear for a moment. "Well, that was Reg. Looks like Aqua's captured the _Tidebreaker_. Thanks for the ship, bro. I think it's time to finish this up."

Makoto pulled the blade back to strike the delirious Winterfield across the throat. {I've got you, Neo,} a psychic voice said into Winterfield's head. It wasn't the four-winged dragon this time. It was something else entirely. Letting go to the voice, Winterfield closed his eyes and passed out.

* * *

**Scoreboard**  
_**Hoenn Council** - 1 Point  
**Aqua PMC** - 1 Point  
**The New Order** - 1 Point **[Eliminated]**  
**Cult of Ketsuban** - 0 Points  
**[LOCKED]**  
**[LOCKED]**  
**[LOCKED]**  
**[LOCKED]**  
**[LOCKED]**_


	27. A Vile Blaze of Glory: Patrick II

**Patrick**

_"**Crystal of Life**—The Crystal of Life can be used to heal any living being from simple cuts and scratches to life threatening wounds such as the loss of a limb. It can be used to resurrect the recently deceased, though they will have no memory of any afterlife prior to being revived. Essentially, it returns a being to the fittest possible state of health for its age._

_ADDENDUM: It remains to be seen if the Crystal of Life can cure the PHT virus. I will need to have Jason Kiev reprioritize his research to find the Crystal."  
_-Excerpt from Harry Kim's Diary, translated from its original Nasmar inscription

**Meteor Falls  
Hoenn**

It didn't take long for Patrick Costello to recognize Richard Morgan from the Crystal of Energy press conference in Slateport City. This was the famous archaeologist for which the Morgan Reactor was named. What could _possibly_ have caused him to end up here and in this state? Morgan rose from the ground about as quick as he fell down. Costello, whose head still hurt like a bitch, grabbed Dr. Fisher by the arm and said "Run!"

"Don't need to tell me that twice," the middle-aged academic replied. Costello turned to take one last look at Morgan. The two locked eyes. Morgan looked absolutely _crazed_ as if he hadn't eaten in weeks and had finally decided to resort to cannibalism. Nonetheless, Costello couldn't just _kill_ him. He was way too valuable to Slateport University and to Harry Kim's legacy. What kind of nation kills the man who discovered free energy? His only option was to get Dr. Fisher to a safe place, knock Morgan out, and bring him back unconscious.

Costello and Fisher followed the riverbank through the anteroom. Morgan trailed a few feet behind, howling like a cat in heat. Every few feet, he'd stop, bend over, and grab increasingly large rocks to throw at the pair. Costello was able to keep Dr. Fisher out of harm's way and his frequent stops allowed the soldier to gain several yards on the crazed assailant.

"If you don't mind me asking, Dr. Fisher," Costello began mid-stride. He had incredible lung strength—he could run miles while still holding a conversation. "What the hell happened?"

Fisher tried to catch her breath to answer. Costello saw another rock out of the corner of his eye, grabbed Dr. Fisher's hand, and pulled her out of the projectile's range. "Ever since we discovered…" she was breathing heavily in between each declamation. "…the Crystal of… Energy… in Orre… he was different. Obsessed with the Crystals… Harry… told him to stop thinking about it… translated a Nasmar… tablet that said there… was a temple in Meteor Falls… Found a Crystal… He tried to kill me… when I was holding it. How… how the hell are you not… out of breath?"

"I run five miles every morning," Costello replied effortlessly. When he noticed that Fisher's fatigue was getting the better of her, he flung her over his shoulders in a single motion and continued to run forward. "Is he the only one or are there others?"

"It was just us," Dr. Fisher said.

"Your message made it sound like you were under siege from a larger armed force," Costello replied disappointed.

"I wanted to make sure you sent me help _fast_," Dr. Fisher explained. Costello shrugged it off. He was beginning to approach the waterfall into the main cavern of Meteor Falls. _Crap. I'm going to be cornered. This isn't good._ Costello heard a gunshot. Before he could react, he felt a burning sensation as a hot bullet burrowed its way into his thigh. Costello figured he had about six seconds of run time left before the pain would become unbearable. He had even less ground left.

The waterfall roared. Costello turned to face Richard Morgan who had pointed the handgun at him. The soldier set Dr. Fisher down and shifted his balance to his right leg. Morgan cocked the handgun, "Give me the Crystal."

"Richard, what's going on? Harry spoke so highly of you," Costello tried to reason with him. The archaeologist fired a warning shot next to Dr. Fisher. Her face went ghost white. "Alright, Richard. I'm going to put the Crystal down nice and easy. No need to shoot." Costello reached into his pouch to grab the containment unit for the Crystal and placed it on the ground in front of him and Dr. Fisher. His leg was really starting to bother him.

Morgan motioned his gun to the left, "Now step away. I'm not going to let you fuck me over." Costello and Fisher backed to the right as Morgan approached the vial containing the Crystal. He bent over to grab the Crystal, but Dr. Fisher kicked it away. Enraged, Morgan pointed the gun at Fisher. Costello attempted to act faster, pushing Morgan off of the cliff with all 233 pounds of muscle in his body. Morgan's body went _flying_ before it began to descend. Unfortunately, he was able to fire off two shots. The first hit Costello's shoulder. The second tagged Fisher in the throat.

"Oh god, no!" Costello cried when he assessed the damage. He limped over to the Crystal as fast as he could and removed it from the containment unit. _This is an emergency. Sorry, Mike._ He pressed the Crystal to the wound on Dr. Fisher. He neck was enveloped in a purple light as the wound closed up before his eyes. Confident that Fisher was fully healed, he then turned the Crystal on himself. The Crystal worked the two bullets inside of him out of his body whilst mending the muscles and nerves torn by the bullet wounds. He returned the Crystal back to the containment unit and put it back in his pouch.

Fisher was speechless. Costello figured that there was nothing he could say to make what had just happened alright. He husband of at least a decade just tried to murder her, he had murdered her husband, and then brought her back to life using an ancient implement that defies all known science. After a moment, the academic began to cry. Costello sat down next to her and put his arm on her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," Costello said.


End file.
